Toxic Aphrodisiac
by Chi Haku
Summary: He hates that no one looks beyond the surface, no one looks him in the eye... But when someone finally does, he's not sure he's ready for the consequences. Aang/Zuko AangxZuko AangZuko Zukaang Aanuko
1. This World Doesn't Have Heroes

**A/N: **Well, this is my first ever multi-chapter yaoi story, so let's see how THIS goes. I'm not entirely sure why the hell I decided on a multichap Avatar yaoi, but, uh…. *shrug* Here goes nothing, neh?

Thanks to _VixenReborn _and _devil-kitsune_ for getting my ass in gear and making me write this faster. And to _Pitapai_ for helping me decide on the title. ("Kibou" means "Hope" by the way.)

_.:Prologue:._

This World Doesn't Have Heroes

The murmurs had started the moment he had stepped out of the dressing room and out in front of the all white backdrop. While the camera had been snapping, flash shining in his eyes, blinding him, he could dull his senses enough to ignore it. The sheer contempt and loathing he felt as he posed time and time again, both for himself and the ones who were allowing this, doing this, to him, was enough to drive him made. Yet each moment his feelings, senses, emotions, dulled a little, more and more.

He had hoped that those annoying voices would stop once he left the studio, threw off those stupid designer clothes and pulled back on his own, but they didn't. The followed him to school, where face after face was suddenly looking at him, looking at him when they'd never even shot a glance his way before. Girls and boys alike, hate and lust, it didn't matter to him, it all blurred into an almost endless slur of emotion he never wanted.

Soon, the whispers were everywhere he went, no matter where he went, everyone knew him by now. Knew his face, his body, knew him just by looking at him and he hated it. Like rumors, the publicity died down after a bit, but it was too late and the damage was done. Even if he was no longer the number one thing in the spotlight, he was still IN the spotlight, where he had never, ever, ever wanted to be.

Zuko Hihoshi hated what had become of his life, hated it almost as much as he hated his father, and that was truly saying something.

His father on the other hand, had never been more pleased with his son, and that made him feel even more hateful towards what he had done. The modeling offer had been unexpected and unwanted, but Zuko had been sure that it might give him some kind of freedom from his family, some kind of rebellion against the perfect son his father wanted to mold.

He had been hopelessly wrong.

Under the spotlight of the camera, Zuko had been once more judged based upon social status and appearance alone. There had been nothing different between the way he was treated at home and the way he was treated in the studio, it made him feel even lower than he normally did. Makeup artist after makeup artist had had their way with his pale skin, covering every blotch, every bruise, every scar, no one even asked where they came from, or why they were there now. No one ever had.

When Zuko had gone home he had stood in the shower for two hours, till the water was ice cold, just shaking as the powers and glosses and gods only knew what else unglued from his skin and fell to the shower floor and into the drain. If he cried, he didn't remember, but he wouldn't have been surprised at all. No one would have heard him over the sound of the water, and even if they had, they wouldn't have cared. His sister and his father both viewed him as weak and useless anyway, a few tears wouldn't change that.

But once the photos were printed (some pop magazine or something, he couldn't remember and didn't care), things changed, and whether for better or for worse he couldn't tell. At first, his father had been shocked at the sight of his son in designer clothing, posing mostly by himself in various backgrounds, advertising this designer and that one. Zuko had thought, hoped, that his father would be furious, would lose some kind of cool and composure over this.

Then the pictures had been found by the school.

Not a single teacher had commented, they didn't dare with who his father was, but the students had no boundaries. The few who had tried to turn it into something to throw at him as an insult or a disgrace were quickly silenced by his suddenly large group of fans. Boy and girls of all ages who just wanted something pretty to look at swarmed him and it made Zuko feel absolutely vile. The sixteen love notes he received in his locker the first day really didn't help his feelings of self loathing either.

After that, whatever hope he had had disappeared entirely as soon as he went home after that first day. His father had never been more pleased with something he had done, congratulating him and informing him of just how many high end photographers and modeling agencies wanted him on their lists now. The small social standing Zuko had been teetering on based solely upon his father was suddenly a standing all his own, all because of a few simple snapshots that didn't even look like him anymore.

His sister, pretty Azula who had always been the bane of his existence and the apple of his father's eye, suddenly respected him. She was eager to tell people her brother was THE Zuko Hihoshi, star freelance model, now. Her ridicule never stopped though, her seemingly never ending teasing and bullying didn't go away, but when in the public eye she treated him like someone equal to her.

At one time, Zuko would have died for that, but now, now he just wished she would go back to hating him all the time.

The only person who Zuko could turn to was his uncle, who without a word took him in and treated him like a normal person. Iroh was the only one who ever had.

But just one person in a world full of those willing to only look at what they saw on the surface, hell, what they saw at first glance, wasn't enough. Even when that person was the most wonderful, understanding, loving uncle anyone could or should possibly ever ask for, it just couldn't add up to the crushing amount of people who just didn't get it. Zuko was drowning, slowly but surely falling into a pit of hate and despair as he was chained more and more to his family name and to what he hated more than anything else in the world. Modeling became just another thing in his life he wished would just shrivel up and die, much like his father and his home and his school. There was nothing left tying him to the planes of the world but his uncle, nothing left for him to believe in and reach for. It was all just pain and hate and loathing and the more days passed, the less and less Zuko believed he could make it.

Had he not known that his uncle would have been absolutely devastated if he had died, he would have willingly left the land of the living long ago. But Iroh had already lost his son to the war, and Zuko had always been like a second child to him, much as he had been more of a father to the boy than his own, and so Zuko lived. Even if it meant living a life he hated, living in a house full of people he despised, in a world full of those who didn't know or care about him, he lived.

Each and every day he prayed for a reason to perhaps stop hating himself so much, something to make him rethinking his own self loathing at selling himself to the mass media. So far, nothing had appeared to make him rethink his hate but a small calico kitten that he had picked up on the way home from school. His father's only condition had been that he take complete responsibility for the feline, and Zuko's mental response had been "as if I'd let YOU take care of her".

And so Zuko lived only for two things, his uncle and his teashop, those hours, sometimes days if he was lucky, that he would spend inside the Jasmine Dragon, and Kibou, his pet cat. Not the most amazing things to live for, but they kept Zuko from just picking up a razor and ending it, and really, that was all that mattered.

Don't get the wrong idea, Zuko wasn't depressed, not in the slightest. He liked living, he liked breathing, being alive seemed like a rather good thing to do thank you very much. But it was hard when one was living in the shadow of a man he hated, strapped down by the stereotype the world had written for him before he could so much as make a move on his own. Living a life dictated by others didn't seem like the most appealing idea, a life where he was forced to hate every move he made… Zuko didn't want to live like that.

Sometimes he would lay in bed at night, petting Kibou listlessly, wondering blankly if, perhaps, he might one day have something, someone, to live for. If perhaps one day, the words inside himself that he wished to copy down onto paper might be allowed flow, if maybe one day he would stop hating himself and his every action.

But for now, all he could do was live the life he despised, and hope that maybe he would come out alive.


	2. Add a Little Poison to the Witch's Brew

A/N: That was utterly and entirely unexpected! O_O Holy mole I was expecting like, two reviews and I got so much more! I didn't really think there were so many living, breathing Zukaang fans still out there! I feel so honored to have earned a (tiny) place in the community already! (That and like, all my favorite Zukaang authors commented on the prologue. _)

Thanks goes once more to _VixenReborn_ who is officially my Zukaang-sensei. TT-TT She's helped me plan practically everything. I would go crazy without her. (She's like a beta for my brain!)

_.:Chapter One:._

Add a Little Poison to the Witch's Brew

Silence blanketed the small room, seemingly lifeless had the curled up mass on the bed not been slowly rising and falling with each breath. A small form suddenly slid through the almost nonexistent crack between the frame of the door and the door itself, padding softly into the room and jumping onto the bed. A small calico cat sat beside the pillow that was currently covered by a halo of shaggy black hair, huge green eyes blinking pensively.

The cat was just a few weeks bigger than a kitten, with wide emerald green eyes and fluffy, but not long, fur. Her coat was glossy, and it looked rather like at one point it have been completely white until someone with only the colors black and wood orange had splattered them all over her back and face. She was by all standards very cute, and had it not been for the boy currently laying in his bed, she'd also probably be dead on the streets by now.

As it were, Zuko Hihoshi had been walking home at EXACTLY the right time down exactly the right alley on a rainy Thursday afternoon to catch sight of the scrawny kitten behind the dumpster. He had looked around once, and seeing no one looking for the cat, scooped her up, checked for a collar, then tucked her inside his coat. A few months later and here they were, thick as thieves and very much dependant on one another. Kibou, that's the kitten, depended on Zuko for taking care of her, and in return, she always made sure to do her best to cheer her often sullen master up a little.

She often succeeded, I might add.

Kibou continued to watch the sleeping face of her master for a few more moments, content with the way he, for once, looked carefree and without the usual stress and distress the day brought on him. Animal's are far more perceptive than humans give them credit for, and far smarter, Kibou was well aware of every ounce of self-hate and pain her master felt, and she didn't like it at all. If she could have kept her master like this forever, peacefully asleep, she would have, just for his own sake.

Sighing to herself, she rose to her paws once more and stepped onto the pillow, reaching over to bat at her master's ear gently. When he only stirred, she did it again, before leaning over and licking his nose. His face momentarily scrunched before he groaned and blinked his eyes open. For a moment, he looked very annoyed at being woken, before his vision cleared and he caught sight of Kibou.

"Morning Kibou." he murmured, raising a hand to rub at the young cats head, his palm big enough to cover her ears without trouble.

Kibou meowed happily and purred as she was petted. She was always glad when her master talked to her. Many humans didn't bother, because animals were "lower" than them, but Zuko always spoke to her, and she tried her best to give some sort of answer every time. Even a small bat of her paw against his hand seemed to make him feel better.

"Mm…What time is it?" Zuko turned over to look at the clock, staring dazedly for all of three seconds before his eyes became focused and he could see the digital numbers. Kibou waited for him to register the numbers making up the time of "6:25" before bouncing off his bed as he flopped back with a groan of annoyance. Once more she waited as he untangled himself from his blankets and sheets, sitting up and throwing his feet over the side of the bed. He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of the long sleeved shirt he wore to bed before stretching with a small groan as his back popped.

Kibou watched all of this patiently, used to this morning routine he had by now. Besides, she liked watching her master best in the mornings when he was half awake, or very late at night when half asleep. At those times, Zuko was unguarded and without the usual mask he wore throughout the day. He was open, and his emotions actually flowed as opposed to bursting to the surface when they reached extremes before being shoved down again. Granted, he didn't feel too many emotions late at night or early in the mornings, but at the very least, his smile was an honest one, and not just a fake one pieced together from the memory of how to feel.

Besides the emotion, Kibou also thought Zuko looked the most beautiful in his unmasked moments. Not that he wasn't beautiful all the time, because believe her, even from a cat's perspective, Zuko was very, very good looking. But he covered most of himself to blot out the evidence of memories he didn't want to exist. One in particular, he covered meticulously every morning, making sure it would stay as hidden as humanly possible throughout the day. But Kibou thought that that mark was just another part of her master Zuko. She could never think him ugly at all, and she didn't understand any human that did.

Kibou loved Zuko best, and Zuko knew that, and that's why they both knew that they could never leave one another until they were both old and gray.

Zuko sighed as he stood, rubbing a hand through his unruly mop of obsidian hair, stepping carefully around Kibou and towards his dresser. He mechanically opened a drawer and fished around for the shirt he had in mind, pulling it out, then grabbing the pair of jeans he had worn the day before (because honestly, no one could tell the difference anyway, and jeans never get dirty). Retreating to the bathroom, he flicked on the lights in his room on the way out, then the ones in the adjoined bathroom.

Getting ready for the way had never been Zuko's favorite thing to do, it kind of sucked honestly, but he had to do it nonetheless and made the most of it. The shower was promptly switched on to a moderately cold temperature, followed by Zuko undressing and folding his night cloths. Neatness had always been his pet peeve, and he really detested leaving cloths strewn about helter-skelter.

Undressed, he stepped into the shower and started washing, glad the cold water was fully awakening him. He had found the remaining half asleep and just waiting for the feeling to wear off was not the most intelligent of things to do in his position. Standing under the icy downpour, allowing it to numb his back, Zuko stared at the white tiled wall without much emotion. He'd stared at the tiles hundred thousand times before, and there was nothing new or unusual about them now, so he didn't find much interest in the porcelain walling. But it was something to look out while his brain slowly started to work again as sleep slipped away from him.

It was always unfortunate to lose the haze of sleep, Zuko had long ago decided. When he was all hazy like that, most of his emotional senses were dulled, and things didn't seem to hurt as much, nor register as clearly. A taunting remark from his sister didn't stay with him the whole day if he heard it when he was in an almost-asleep state. Sadly, he couldn't very well walk around like that, because he wasn't very attentive then either, or articulate.

Fully awake now, Zuko sighed, reluctant to begin the day at all, but already halfway through the process, and therefore without a point of reversing the whole thing. He couldn't very well fall back asleep like this, now that his mind was revving up and throwing around ideas to mull over during the day. He might as well just get the day over with in the least painful way he could possibly manage, which was always painful in the end anyway, but hey, might as well make the attempt, right?

Getting reluctantly out of the shower (no matter how cold it had gotten, far more inviting that the outside world), Zuko dried off, towel his hair lightly, fully aware it would sort itself out during the course of the day. Dressing was just as mechanical as removing the clothes from their drawers had been, shirt over head, pants over legs, button, zip, belt… It was all very routine and droll, and Zuko had done it so many times it really wasn't even something he thought about anymore.

He stood in front of the mirror, quickly glancing over himself, not for the sake of making sure he looked good, just making sure he didn't look "bad". Azula never needed another excuse to tease him, and he rarely gave one if he could avoid it. It was really the only reason he dressed in clothing that looked "good" on him and not things three sizes too big.

His simple black shirt for instance, he would have much preferred being big enough to reach down to his mid-thighs just for the sake of hiding his figure, the same with his jeans. As it were however, the shirt was the perfect size and while being loose enough to not be considered "tight" was close enough fitting to show off the fact that Zuko had curves. Yes, curves, as in his waist dipped in and curved out almost perfectly. (Azula had, thankfully, long ago given up on making fun of that part of him, as many girls seemed to favor him because of it.) His jeans hung on his hips, a size too big, but not big enough to hide his long, lean legs.

Zuko didn't really mind his feminine figure, it had never been something to be ashamed of, and he had never thought himself any less of a man for it. So he had curves and was slender, despite how toned he was muscle wise, that wasn't anything to feel strange about. His mother had always said she thought he was very beautiful, and when he argued against the use of such a word in relation to a boy, she told him that beauty was a word for all genders, races and species. So what if he was a boy? He was beautiful, and had a more feminine figure than most, it didn't change who he was at all.

Or, he reminded himself, lifting his bands to look into his eyes, both of them, he used to be. Now, where beauty had once shone he could only see death, hate and rejection from the universe at large. Zuko knew that, overall, he was good looking until you got past the clothes, because then you started to see evidence of the less beautiful side of his life. The side that arranged itself around his father, his sister, and whoever decided they didn't like him.

Scars ricocheted around his body, some faint, some more defined, some old and some new. Less new than there used to be, mostly thanks to his new "career" as a model. His father would never damage goods beyond repair. Bruises and cuts were okay, as long as they left no lasting infliction upon his seeming perfection in the mass media's eyes. But old scars still remained, and those were always covered by heaps of makeup and photo-shopping.

One scar however, was left for him to cover, and he did, as best he could without drawing more attention to it. It wasn't as if he would care if someone saw it, he'd rather they didn't, but he had gotten used to the mark three years ago after it had occurred. He couldn't very well hide his ear, anyway, so he was sure that some people either knew or at the very least had suspicions. But it was very different to know or be suspicious of something and actually seeing it.

That was why half of Zuko's bangs, the half over the right side of his face, covered that half of his face almost entirely. If no one saw the huge burn across his eye, arching down to meet the end of his jaw, slicing away a few jagged edges of his hairline (again, obscure by his shaggy mop of black), then it wasn't a problem. And so far, no one had seen it, and no one was going to as far as he was concerned.

Picking up his hairbrush, Zuko ran it through his damp hair, tugging it flat over the side of his face in a very careful manner, before carelessly running it through the rest of his hair just to relieve it of the tangles. In all honesty, his hair was pretty unruly looking, but quite tame when left to its own devices, it rarely got tangles. It was mostly a matter of making sure that one set of bangs stayed in place where he put them. Usually, they were quite agreeable and did what he told them, but there were certainly times when they just wouldn't listen.

Once sure his scar was covered, Zuko replaced everything in the bathroom where it had been, picked up his folded pajamas and went back into his room. Kibou was waiting for him, patiently sitting on his desk chair, tail flicking, emerald eyes trained on him. Putting away his night clothes, Zuko padded over to her and picked her up, kissing the top of her head affectionately.

"You're probably very hungry right now, huh Kibou? I'm sorry for making you wait, you're always so patient with me."Kibou mewed and rubbed her head under his chin. If anyone could have seen her face, they would have sworn she was smiling.

"How about some of last night's salmon for breakfast today?" he offered, setting her down on his bed just long enough to grab his socks and shoes (converse).

Kibou meowed in a chastising sort of way and Zuko sighed. That cat was perceptive, and well aware that if he did give her that fish he wasn't going to be taking any lunch. Sometimes he wondered if her intelligence was a mixed blessing.

"Alright, cat food then?"

A more happy meow and Zuko quirked a small half smile.

"You're so stubborn Kibou."

Tying his laces, Zuko picked up his cat again, laying a second kiss on the top of her head and gently rubbing her right ear as he left his room. He made sure to shut the door firmly behind him, because Azula's motto seemed to be, if the door is closed (even if it isn't locked) you don't go in out of courtesy, if it's even half a centimeter open though… He shuddered to think what would happen to a majority of his things, especially the things his uncle had given him.

The trip down the stairs to the kitchen wasn't exactly life changing, and neither was the short trip through the hallway, and when Zuko arrived in the kitchen he was pleasantly surprised to find it basically void of life.

Placing Kibou on the counter, where she promptly sat down and curled her tail around her paws, he reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out the bag of cat food. Two scoops went into her bowl, which was then placed in front of her, before the bag was put back in the cabinets and Zuko went about making his own small breakfast. A piece of toast with jam was all he ate, not because he was weight conscious, he knew his body's boundaries quite well, but because he honestly wasn't hungry. In fact, if it wasn't his uncle's cooking, he rarely had an appetite at all.

"Geez Kibou, you can start eating before me you silly kitten." Zuko said in an amused tone of voice.

Kibou meowed in a sort of "too bad" way, waiting for the toast to pop out of the toaster and the jam to be spread on it before she so much as dipped her head down to taste her own meal. The two ate in silence, Zuko lost in thought, Kibou awaiting when her master would come out of his self inflicted mind sweep.

"Up early again I see dear brother."

Kibou had really been hoping that he'd come out of his thoughts on his own, not be rudely awakened by the woman standing in the doorway. But as per usual, life was cruel to Zuko and gave him no reprieve at all.

"Azula." he answered with a nod, all traces of his thoughts gone from his face, mask carefully in place. "Good morning."

"And to you." she stepped into the kitchen, dressed in a red halter top and a black leather skirt. On anyone else the combination would have looked scandalous, but she somehow made it look almost elegant. "Toast again? Tell me you're not becoming anorexic."

Zuko snorted in contempt.

"You know I never eat much, and besides, what do you care?"

"I don't." she said with a sigh, smirking. "But no one wants a model when all their bones are showing."

If Zuko's mask hadn't been in place, he would have downright snarled at her. Luckily, he controlled himself and kept his face mainly emotionless.

He kept his eyes on Azula as she reached into the cabinet above where Kibou was eating, pulling out a box of cereal. He was well aware that she would never, ever hurt Kibou, wouldn't dare, because if there was one thing she had quickly learned, Kibou was a line she wasn't allowed to cross. She had called the kitten "fleabag" ONCE, and her brother had just about ripped her tongue out. Zuko was pretty docile, especially around his sister and father, but apparently when Kibou was involved, he didn't allow any kind of mistreatment.

And that was all well and good, if what kept him in line was a cat, then very well. Azula and her father could stand not being mean to a cat, she was sort of cute anyway.

That didn't mean Kibou liked Azula at all. It just meant that the two females kept a respectful pact between themselves. Azula didn't do anything to Kibou, and Kibou didn't do anything to Azula, no shredding her curtains or homework, no biting her so hard she bled, just leave each other alone and everything would be okay. So far, it was working.

"So…" Azula drawled, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and moving towards the fridge to get it out. "Anything planned for the day brother?"

Being closer to the fridge (standing right next to it in fact) Zuko opened it and pulled out the milk for his sister, handing it to her idly.

"Not really." he answered. "I was thinking of going to uncle's after school…"

He knew Azula was sneering, but he ignored the challenge and continued nibbling his toast. Aside from Kibou, his uncle was the only other thing Zuko refused to take any insult towards. Naturally, as he was a family member, it was a lot more open than his over protective say-one-word-wrong-and-I'll-rip-you-a-new-one attitude about Kibou, but it was pretty close. Much like the cat situation though, both his father and his sister had long ago decided that, eh, if visiting and stay over with their (that's the two of them) estranged uncle kept Zuko from doing something potentially scandalous to the family name, then fine.

"I see…." she drawled again. "Anything else? Or will you be playing waiter all evening?"

This time Zuko did shoot her a warning glare. At his uncle's teashop, which was actually rather high class, Zuko could often be found being a waiter. It had never been about extra money, in fact he cashed most of them in his uncle's name and just gave the money back (gods knew he had enough money). He actually thought it was rather fun, working with his uncle, getting a taste of the life his uncle found so satisfying and deciding he liked it too. Most of the frequent guests knew him by name, and had long ago dropped their thoughts of him just being a rich pretty boy. Zuko wasn't like that, he never had been.

Glancing at the clock, Zuko mentally sighed. The only thing even remotely as bad as home was school, and according to the kitchen time-teller, it was time to attend exactly that place.

He patted Kibou's head once, his usual sign of "alright let's go" and finished his toast in a few larger bites than before. Pushing off the counter he had been leaning against, he made his way upstairs, kitten trotting pleasantly at his heels. Azula said nothing to him as he exited, and he hadn't expected her to either. He didn't bother checking to see if his father was in his room, as he hadn't stayed over the night before and therefore obviously wouldn't be.

Despite this being the "family house" it was really more Azula and Zuko's house, mainly Zuko's. His father rarely stayed there, and when he did it was only for one night at a time before he was off again to gods only knew where. Sometimes other continents entirely, they weren't even sure. Azula had a new boyfriend every other week, and she had heaps of doting followers who would just love to have her over. She lived to party, and most weekends Zuko spent blissfully alone. In general, the person who spent the most time there was Zuko.

Back in his room, Zuko went over to his desk chair, over the back of which hung his hoodie, plain black and nothing more. He picked up and pulled on the hoodie, zipping it up to half way up his chest before looking around for his school bag. He had dropped it in a half dead delirious state the night before after an intense day of tests right after a three day weekend. Whoever had decided on that set up was either evil or insane, or both. Most likely both.

Spotting his bag over by the foot of his bed, Zuko walked over and picked it up, slinging the messenger bag over his head to rest snugly at the junction between neck and shoulder. Adjusting the strap momentarily, he sighed and looked over at his clock. There was no more time to be procrastinating the movement towards his school, he had to go now or he'd be late, and he had a perfect attendance record to uphold.

"Alright Kibou." he said to the small kitten sitting on his bed. "You know where the food and litter box is in here, I'm going to lock you in just in case I end up spending the night at Uncle Iroh's. I'll come pick you up if I plan on staying more than one night."

Kibou meowed and rolled her eyes, the cat version of the quintessential "I KNOW mom…." Zuko quirked another small smile, a real one, that made Kibou's eyes light up happily.

"Be safe Kibou, don't leave this room."

Leaning over, he kissed her nose, scratched the top of her head once, before turning towards the door to his room and exiting. Zuko locked the door to his room with his own key (yes, he had a lock on his door, which had gone unused until he'd decided he'd feel a hell of a lot better about Kibou if she was somewhere his family couldn't potentially get when he wasn't around.), then slipped it back into his pocket and started downstairs. He didn't say good bye to Azula like siblings did in any other family, and she made no effort to say anything to him either, which was on the whole, unsurprising.

He was out the front door and down the two front steps from the porch a lot faster than he wanted to be, and sent a marginally small glare at the stairs as he started down the street. Why couldn't they have more steps that took longer to get down, maybe crumbled occasionally, or had one stupid rollerblade on them that would make him fall and break some important bone he couldn't pronounce? There were only two measly steps that never caused anyone any harm and really couldn't. Zuko sighed. It was a shame that even the nature of their house seemed to work against him these days.

The walk to the bus stop was uneventful and tedious, with a side of chilled winds announcing that autumn was coming quite soon. Zuko liked autumn, the leaves in the trees changing, the way the sun just sparkled, the crispness of the air, it was his favorite season. It was always beautiful during the season, even though it meant everything slowly crumbling back to its roots before it can grow come spring. It had been his mother's favorite season too.

Zuko halted his steps at the thought of his mother, staring blankly at the sidewalk at his feet, far away from where he stood. After a moment, he shook his head, lifted his chin, and walked the remaining three years to the bus stop. He had no time to be thinking about his mother right now, he had to prep himself for school, carefully place on his mask and make sure it didn't slip during the day.

The bus arrived and he got on with a small nod to the bus driver, who never seemed to change even though this was a public bus. The portly man nodded back, took his student ID, didn't even bother eyeing, and handed it back. Zuko had been riding this bus for almost six years now, he knew he was a student, and he didn't need a student ID to allow him his free ride to and from school.

Zuko took a seat halfway through the bus by the window, placing his bag in the seat next to him so no one would sit beside him. Most of the bus's occupants knew him, at least by face and attitude, and knew well enough that he'd like to be left alone. There was those few newcomers that tried to sit next to him though, just because it was an open seat. He would often get up and stand instead then, though there was this one nice old lady who would every so often slip into the seat before the new rider could. He never got up when she sat down, she was sweet and motherly, and smelled like homemade chocolate chip cookies and laundry detergent, which should have been nasty but was actually rather pleasant. She had given him advice about how to take care of Kibou the day he'd taken her home, and ever since he was little she had been handing him small pieces of lemon drop candy. The old woman was nice, and he liked her. She was probably the only one other than the bus driver who he liked on this thing.

His stop arrived soon enough, and he slipped out of his seat and off the bus after a small hello to the old woman and good bye to the driver. The woman smiled kindly at him and the driver offered a gruff "g'bye" just as he had been for years. Stepping off the bus, Zuko ran a hand through the bangs on the left side of his face, grimacing at how cold they felt, being still damp from the shower. Sighing in annoyance, he started walking towards his school, every step feeling a little duller as the last of his mask fell into position. Finally he was almost completely numb, and felt it safe to speed up his steps just enough to get to school on time.

He was through the front gate and into the school courtyard in a matter of seven minutes. He fully expected the giggles and whispers, and he fully expected the stares, he even expected the few hellos, which he returned only as nods. Zuko was well aware of everything that would and could happen that day in his school life, it was completely routine.

And then something changed.

Zuko was prepared for and used to the heated stares of those who found him attractive, they meant nothing to him at all, but suddenly a shiver rolled down his back and he froze. Someone had their eyes on him, not like the people all around him did, appraising, jealous, star struck, lusting. This stare was different. It was admiring, curious, with just a touch of…Of he didn't know what. He didn't even know what this stare could mean.

Zuko looked around quickly, but was unable to find anyone staring at him in a way that was at all out of the ordinary. But that shiver was still playing along his back and making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Suddenly the stare, just as quickly as it had appeared, was gone, leaving Zuko feeling rather cheated. For a moment, he just stood there, before shaking his head and continuing into the school with the mass of people, determined to put it out of his mind entirely. He should have been too numb thanks to his mask to feel that at all, but he had felt it more than he felt anything else, and he was very curious, and very annoyed about it. But pursuing that stare was the last thing he wanted to do. If it might be able to slip through his barriers, he had to avoid it at all costs, and that's what he'd do.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur of porcelain smiles and things Zuko already knew, before he was out again and racing down the street to catch the bus again and telling the driver "the usual place". The driver knew what he meant exactly.

Fifteen minutes later and Zuko was telling the driver good bye again, slipping off the bus and practically dashing down the street. His mask was washing away the closer and closer he got to his destination and excitement was building in his chest, pounding at his ribs. If he bumped into anyone, it didn't register in his mind, though he did throw a few hellos at storeowners he passed, who smiled and returned his greeting in some way or another. Most of them had known him his whole life and were well used to the young man racing down their streets towards his uncle's shop.

Zuko skidded to a halt in front of the Jasmine Dragon, pausing only a moment to catch his breath and stare up at the beautiful establishment he had practically grown up in. The dragon, that Zuko still seriously contemplated if it was made of pure jade, sat atop the sign as usual, curling around it protectively and artistically. The teen let a small smile slip out at he stared at the ruby red eyes, thinking not for the first or last time that they were far kinder than they were dangerous. He'd always viewed that dragon as a sort of guardian, to both his uncle and himself.

He collected his thoughts, ripped away what was left of his mask and walked in.

The bell at the top of the door jingled as he entered, and the hostess only glanced up once before smiling at him and looking down again, well aware she didn't need to act as a host to him. He passed through the tables quickly, not bothering to stop for anything, and past the stairs. The Jasmine Dragon had three levels, the bottom level which was more family oriented, the second level which was for more fancy and upper class occasions, and the very top, where his uncle lived. At this time of day, his uncle was most likely to be on the bottom level though.

He pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen, glancing around once for his uncle and frowning when he couldn't spot him.

"Oh, hello Zuko, I didn't see you come in!"

Zuko turned to look at his fellow waiter, and long time friend (yes, he did have a few of those), Jin. She was a pretty girl of nineteen who had started college the year before and took on her part time job as a full time one. If she wasn't at the Jasmine Dragon, bailing her younger brother Li out of trouble at school, or dragging Zuko to the bookstore or mall, she was at home studying to become a professional chef.

Like so many before her, Jin had fallen in love with the Jasmine Dragon the moment she stepped inside three years previously. She had immediately asked for a job when she saw Zuko working, and had been granted one without a second thought. She hadn't exactly left since, and she wasn't planning on leaving any time soon either. The goal of her becoming a professional chef was to expand the Jasmine Dragon, maybe even open another shop somewhere if they could. Yes, that was really her life goal. Zuko had found it astonishing too.

"Hey Jin." he said with a nod. "How's Li?"

"In trouble as per usual. I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy, honestly, he's such a troublemaker. He says hi by the way, he's still begging me to let him join a sword fighting class."

Zuko winced.

"Sorry."

"You should be."

It was said jokingly though.

Zuko, along the course of his life, had been instructed in a multitude of different martial arts, and other self defense methods. One he had grown particularly fond of, was sword fighting, fencing, kendo, it didn't matter, he just loved it. His favorite blade was a pair of lightweight, very sharp twin blades that he had been practicing using for years.

When Li had seen him practicing one day, he had insisted Zuko teach him, and he had almost done it, if Jin hadn't jumped in last second. It had become a joke between them since, but Zuko still felt a bit bad about it.

"Your uncle's in back, by the way." Jin informed him. "In the laboratory."

Zuko smiled to himself.

"I shoulda known. Thanks Jin." he pecked her cheek before quickly dashing through the kitchen towards the laboratory. He was very glad Jin had proclaimed herself his older sister, she was exactly what he needed after a really long day.

The laboratory wasn't half as sinister as Jin made it sound. It was just a room in the back of the kitchen with a college level chemistry set in it and a bunch of different things for making tea from around the world. His uncle often disappeared in there to create new teas and concoctions of equal taste and pallet. Sometimes he'd come up with new foods or sauces to serve with their Japanese-Chinese cuisine, but mostly it was teas. The Jasmine Dragon had started out a teashop before someone had suggested adding foods to the menu. Since then, the shop had acquired a multitude of very capable chefs and tea brewers and had expanded to most of the building as was earlier mentioned.

Zuko opened the door to the laboratory slowly, making sure he wasn't interrupting his uncle at too dire a time in the tea making process, and slipped inside. His uncle was glaring at a pot of boiling tea leaves, chin on fist, deep in thought. Zuko almost giggled when he saw his uncle looking so ticked off at a pot of leaves, but decided on sneaking up on him instead. He slipped up behind the older man and wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a hug.

Iroh jumped, before looking over his shoulder and allowing his face to break into a huge grin.

"Zuko! I'm sorry I didn't welcome you nephew, I didn't know you were coming!"Zuko grinned back.

"Sorry for not calling, uncle." he kissed the old man's temple, but didn't let him go. He was fully content to snuggle his uncle thank you very much, and Iroh didn't mind either.

Iroh smiled at his nephew.

"Welcome home nephew." he murmured, knowing that was what Zuko was waiting to hear.

"Yeah…I'm home."

He let go only long enough for his uncle to turn in his seat and pull him into a powerful bear hug that made feel Zuko feel warm and protected the instant he was folded inside his uncle's arms. No one else in the world could make him feel as safe as his uncle did.

They just sat there for a little while, Zuko on his uncle's knee, happily in his arms like a small child, just glad to be close to the elder man. Finally, he pulled his head away from Iroh's chest to look over at the boiling leaves.

"So whatcha making uncle?"

Iroh sighed and turned his eyes once more to his brewing tea mixture with an annoyed frown.

"I was trying to mix apricot and ginseng tea, but it keeps coming out tasting like someone mashed a rotten peach into a meat grinder full of ham."

"Disgusting then?"

"Repulsive."

Zuko hummed to himself, deciding against getting off his uncle's lap, but instead leaning forward slightly to stare at the pot. Pulling it marginally closer, he sniffed it and wrinkled his nose.

"Uncle…" he said in a musing tone. "Apricot has a really light and sweet flavor, but ginseng is really bold and sharp. Maybe try adding a dash of lemon tea to balance them out?"

"My goodness Zuko you're right! I hadn't thought of that!" he ruffled his nephew's hair with a laugh. "Half of these brews were thanks to you! What would I do without you?"

Zuko laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Still be an amazing tea maker, only with half as many brews. I'm going to go start working, do you mind if I leave my stuff in here?"

"Must you ask?"

"Thanks Uncle Iroh."

Reluctantly leaving his uncle's lap, he got up and dropped his bag and hoodie in a corner out of the way, before exiting the laboratory. He found Jin, who handed him an apron, which he threw on, and his pad for taking orders.

"Table six Zuko, and three, actually. I'd go to three first, it's a family with a little kid."

"Three then six, got it Jin."

Ducking out of the kitchen, he made his way to table three, where there was indeed a family sitting. A mother, father and possibly an aunt or family friend, with a little girl who was giggling about something or other. Zuko smiled politely at them, and the aunt-figure smiled back.

"What type of tea?" he asked, and began taking their orders.

Three minutes later and he was clicking his pen again and telling them their order would be out in about ten minutes, and smiling at the little girl who was eyeing him curiously. She blushed and leaned up to whisper something to her mother, who smiled cordially. Zuko went back to the kitchens and delivered the order to the nearest chef, a man named Kito, who sighed in annoyance at the large order, but was obviously faking it through his smile. Kito loved making food, and large family orders were his specialty. He put on a hard front but he was really a nice guy at heart.

Removing himself from the busy kitchen atmosphere once more, Zuko glanced around for table six. Finding it still occupied, he slipped around another waiter and walked over to the table by the window, counting how many people were sitting there. Four people, about his age he had to guess, chatting happily.

He stopped beside the table, taking the time it took them to notice him to look them over. There were a pair of what he had to assume were siblings, a brother and a sister, with tanned skin and bright blue eyes. Across from them, on the outside seat of the table, was a girl with pale skin, almost as pale as his, and dark hair, bangs almost covering her eyes. He wondered how she could possibly see like that until he caught sight of the milky tone of her eyes. She was blind. Next to her, beside the window, was perhaps the strangest of their company.

A boy with a shaved head and tattoos of blue arrows running from his forehead down his neck and the backs of his hands up his arms. His skin was a creamy olive tone and his eyes were mercury silver and seemed to be laughing even when he wasn't. There was a pair of Buddhist prayer beads around his neck like a rosary, even though he was dressed like the most casual punk in the world.

Zuko tore his eyes away and pulled out his pad and pen, clearing his throat to gain their attention. All four teens looked up at him, even the blind girl, and he nodded to them.

"Hello, I'll be your waiter for today, may I take your order?"

What happened next was perhaps the most unexpected thing that had even happened to Zuko in his entire life. Well…not THE most unexpected, but it was definitely in the top five least expected things. Before the tan girl could even speak a word, mouth open, the boy with the tattoos had shot up in his seat, eyes fixed directly on him and asked, rather loudly and excitedly;

"Please be my personal model!"

**xOxOx**

**A/N:** _

That was NOT supposed to be that obnoxiously long. At all.

So, on request from like, everyone... lots of Kibou, uncle Iroh, and there at the end appears...well everyone else. Yeah.

Was Aang's entrance Aang-y enough?

And I have a request to all you fanartists out there reading this...DRAW ME THE IROH AND ZUKO HUG SCENE! PLEASE! I dunno why but I really want a picture of that.

THAT IS ALL! AU REVOIR! *ninjapoof*


	3. Let's See a Smile on that Broken Face

A/N: **IMPORTANT **Concerning last chapter, considering it got so many questions, the OOC overly-affectionate-Zuko with Iroh? That has a PURPOSE. Foreshadowing for a flashback and all that. Sorry for the confusion, I suck at foreshadowing. ^^; Hopefully this chapter will clear up some of the misunderstanding before I get around to fully explaining it later on.

_.:Chapter Two:._

Let's See a Smile on that Broken Face

The Jasmine Dragon closed two times throughout the day. Once at eleven p.m., that was official closing time, and once at four p.m., when Iroh and the workers usually took lunch and had an hour break before getting back to work. The four o'clock closing had come about when Zuko was a young child and would come to help at the shop. Things had been running all day long and everyone was working, so Iroh didn't have the time to sit down and talk to his nephew about his day, and none of the other waiters and workers had the time to coo and cuddle him.

So at four o'clock on the daily the shop would close down until five when it would reopen and everything would keep running until closing time at eleven. This system suited Zuko perfectly well, as he got out of school between two and three depending on the day, would come and work for an hour, then have an hour to do whatever with his uncle and teashop staff. It had been this way for years and years, and it was one of the few routines Zuko actually enjoyed.

For the first time today however, that routine was being interrupted.

The staff, save Jin who refused to leave, and Iroh, had all disappeared off to lunch, understanding when it was time to give the Hihoshi family members some space. This left three people plus the occupants of table six alone in the teashop for an hour.

Zuko sat at a large eight person table with his uncle in the upstairs section of the Jasmine Dragon. There was a plate of gyoza in the middle of the table, and a cup of tea in front of himself and his uncle. On most occasions, he would be idly sipping the tea, but right now his hands were shaking too much, though whether from anger, confusion or nerves he was utterly unsure.

Across from him sat the tan skinned boy, his sister next to him, the boy with the tattoos next to her and the blind girl last on the end. The tattooed boy looked just as nervous as Zuko felt and was fiddling with his prayer beads periodically. The tan girl next to him kept shooting him annoyed looks, and he could almost picture her going "stop that!" in a very motherly tone of voice.

"So…" Iroh began.

At this all eyes save Zuko's turned to the older man and the tan girl bowed her head once before looking him in the eye.

"We're really, really sorry about this." she said abashedly.

"Yeah." the blind girl commented. "Our friend's just a little impulsive."

Zuko snorted quietly and muttered under his breath; "A little?"

He could have sworn the blind girl smirked.

The boy in question bowed his head sheepishly.

"I am sorry." he said, lifting his eyes, but not his head. "I didn't mean to cause a scene, I honestly just wasn't thinking."

"No duh you weren't twinkle toes!" The blind girl smacked him over the back of the head. "Now the shop's gonna get rumors started about it and it'll be all your fault!"

"Ow-! Tooooph!"

The blind girl, Toph, glared through sightless eyes and the boy cowered towards the tan girl on his other side.

Zuko watched this all with confusion and moderate interest, wondering just who in the heck these people were exactly. And why they were still in the teashop. And most importantly, why the tattooed kid had randomly yelled…that, at him.

Iroh on the other hand, laughed jovially.

"Now, now, no need for apologies, I'm not angry. Surprised, sure, but certainly not angry! But do tell me, what's this I heard about my nephew being someone's personal model? I was in the kitchen and only heard it from one of the waiters…"

Zuko rolled his eyes and propped his head on his hand, free hand trailing a finger idly around the rim of his teacup. Had he not thrown his mask up again the moment he saw the four other teens in the room when he entered, he would be very close to pouting right now. Unless he stayed the night he had very limited alone time with his uncle, and currently, they were stealing precious minutes of it. Could no one tell he really didn't care who they were or what they had meant? They were just more faces in the crowd to him.

Just more people who didn't care until he started modeling, just more people who would run when they knew the truth. Zuko didn't want, or need that.

"That woulda been him." the tan boy said with a grin, pointing a thumb at the other boy.

Said male chuckled sheepishly.

"Yeah, uh, that was me."

Zuko rolled his eyes again and tapped his finger against the side of his cup.

The boy cleared his throat, looking up fully and grinning, eyes shining. This time, Zuko got a good look at him, and allowed his eyes to trail over his features. His height spoke of an age more than Zuko's own, but he had boyish features, a sharp jaw, but smooth cheeks. His eyes were bright, clear, storm cloud gray tinted silver mercury, and his smile was pure morning sunshine. His ears however, were pierced in six different places, on the side he could see at the least. And he was tattooed.

The two "punk" aspects of his appearance barely fit at all, didn't, actually, but at the same time seemed to work. It was a very contradictory event that left Zuko feeling as though he was looking at one person but hearing another entirely.

"My name is Aang Kazekama, Mister Iroh, sir, I go to school with your nephew."

Zuko blinked in shock and raised his head from his hand. Seriously? He'd never seen this kid before in his life and he went to school with him? Zuko made it a point to at least know people looked a little, well, interesting, at the least. School wasn't somewhere he enjoyed, and his classmates weren't people he liked, but when someone got his attention, he made it a point to remember that person's face, sometimes name.

Aang, certainly caught his interest. The moment he had shot up in his seat, Zuko's brain had filed away his face and now his name joined it. He was sure that if someone this…Bright, and attention catching had been at school, he would have already done that by now. Was he really shutting himself off that much from the world?

"Oh-ho, do you now?"

Aang nodded.

"I've never really noticed him before, I mean, I've seen him around, obviously, but never paid much attention y'know? But I saw him get off the bus this morning and…I dunno, kinda just noticed him?" he laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Sounds sort of crazy huh?"

"Not at all." Iroh answered with a kind smile. "We can be living alongside someone for years and never truly see them until one morning over coffee."

Aang returned the smile wholeheartedly and continued.

"Anyway, I was totally bummed when I didn't see him again for the rest of the day, but then when I saw him here I just sort of…uh….reacted?"

"I'll say." Toph scoffed. "I can't see what the big deal is, personally."

"You're blind Toph, of course you can't."

"Shut up Sokka."

The tan boy laughed nervously as Toph glared at him.

Zuko frowned to himself. Didn't see him for the rest of the day? When had he seen him in the first place? Surely just him getting off the bus wasn't good enough to pique this kid's interest, he couldn't be that childish. Then it registered. That stare this morning, the one Zuko wasn't used to, it had to have been Aang's. It had been AANG staring at him for the first time this morning, and he'd probably slipped away before Zuko could spot him.

All Zuko could think was, "Wonderful, another fan", in a very sarcastic tone.

At the same time though, he was confused. Aang's stare, his gaze, it wasn't anything special. At best it could be considered interest, maybe, but there was nothing remotely important there that was worth noticing. If he had only just seen him this morning, then why had his eyes torn right through Zuko to run along his spine like an ice cold wind? What had that stare even been about? Why had he even stared?

The more he talked to this Kazekama kid, the more he was feeling the animal instinct to turn around and run away as fast as humanly possible. Something about him just didn't sit right, neither with Zuko, nor with his mask.

"Look…" he mumbled, and all eyes turned away from Iroh and onto him. "As interesting as that is, it really doesn't explain the scene you made, or why you made it."

Why was he asking, why did it matter? This meant nothing to him, he'd just told himself that. He should be getting up and leaving to…Go do the dishes or something right now. Not sitting here listening to some guy's excuse for yelling at him. What was wrong with him today? He was acting so out of character…

Aang smiled at him and Zuko had the urge to look away. It was strange, as he almost did, despite the fact that "mask" Zuko, was very good at never revealing his emotions. He never broke eye contact and never moved his voice above a tempered murmur. "Mask" Zuko couldn't afford to have emotions, he had to hide them all away, lock them inside himself until choice few times he could let them out. Like around Iroh, Kibou and sometimes Jin.

Yet Aang made him feel like running to the nearest corner and curling up in it in the fetal position, praying for the boy to go away. What could possibly be going on with him today? No one ever slipped through his mask before.

And neither was this guy, Zuko insisted to himself. He was just a touch shaken from the boy's (why did he continually refuse to call him Aang?) earlier explosion. That was it. There was nothing remotely abnormal about this guy and his friends. They were just more people Zuko had to but didn't want to deal with and nothing more. They would never speak again after today, if he had his way.

"Well, you see, I'm an artist." Aang began, eyes sparkling. "I've been looking for a model for my upcoming collection, and when I saw you, I just knew it had to be you."

Zuko narrowed his eyes in anger and slight contempt. Just as he had expected, another idiot who just wanted him for his appearance. Somewhere inside him, his heart wrenched, some small part of him had seriously hoped these people would be different. Aang would be different. That small part of him, no matter how illogical, would always hope.

But there was no way he was going to let this happen to him, too many time had it happened before. It was always either to get at his beautiful and ever so charming sister, or because he had money, and now, now because he was THE Zuko Hihoshi, star freelance model. If this guy really thought he bought his act, he was kidding no one. There may have been times when Zuko was a bit naïve, but he was by no means stupid.

Zuko abruptly rose, slamming his hands down on the table. Anger was getting the better of him, he knew, but he didn't care. He slipped back into his mask, relaxed his muscles and pet up the anger inside of him for later on, whenever that would be.

"I refuse." he said calmly, mask remaining in place.

"What? But I-"

"If you want to use me as a model so bad, take a look in some magazine, I'm sure the girls in your class know which ones have the best photos or whatever." he answered in a conversation endingly calm voice.

And with that he spun on his heel and left the room. He was sorely tempted to just leave the teashop altogether, but he didn't want to punish his uncle just because he was pissed off and upset. Zuko loved him far too much for that.

So instead, he made his way down the stairs and straight into the kitchens, staring at the floor dully and wondering why this had to happen all the time. What had he possibly done to deserve this happening to him over and over and over again? Surely there was nothing he could have done in the last sixteen years of continual mask wearing and people pleasing that could have warranted a life like he led. Maybe the world just needed someone to drop all the hate and sorrow on and decided that a defenseless half Japanese half Chinese boy would do.

He went over to the tub-like sink full of dishes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear as he did. Checking his apron was covering whatever he didn't want to get wet, he leaned forward and turned on the faucet full blast. Grabbing the sponge, he pour soap into the basin, then on the sponge itself, wetted it, squeezed it out, and went to work. In no particular order he washed plates, bowls, serving platters, forks, knives, spoons. Whatever came under his hands he scrubbed until he was completely sure it couldn't shine any brighter.

There were several things Zuko did when he was wearing his mask, but feeling way too much emotion at the same time. It was like trying to cover a pot of rice that's boiling over, the emotions just got to be too much for him and he would shut down or overflow entirely. Neither of these two reactions had very good after effects, as one was an almost complete emotional breakdown, and the second consisted of him going so far into his mask that he was barely there at all anymore. The first had happened several times over the course of the years, and most often it came down to Iroh being a very good father figure and calming his nephew. The second had only ever happened twice, once when Zuko's mother disappeared (it had only lasted two hours before he went into an emotional breakdown instead) and once when he got his scar (that one lasted over a month).

But because of this, Zuko had learned that it was best to deal with his quickly overflowing emotions as soon as possible. There were few things that seemed to work as well as simply sitting down and pouring everything out to his uncle, but getting lost in work or studying was close to as good. Sometimes, if he caught himself early on, just sitting there petting Kibou would work too, but not always. It really depended on how bad his emotions were getting.

In this case, they were moderately bad. Not horrible, but not small enough that sitting down and petting his cat would do much to help. It wasn't at the level where he felt the need to just breakdown in tears either though, it was more one of those times when he just really needed to block everything around him out. And so, he did.

The repetitive motions of washing the dishes were becoming a quickly formed routine that Zuko's brain and body were adjusting to. As long as he lost himself in the hot water, smell of dish soap and porcelain, he would be okay. His emotions would slowly recede and he would calm down back to a level where he wouldn't come off as a complete lunatic. His mask would stay in place and when he took it off, he would be the Zuko that Iroh (and Jin) knew. The kind, affectionate, but very emotionally damaged young man they had known for so long. Until then though, he would continue to scrub.

He just stood there, washing dish after dish, for perhaps twenty minutes, completely uninterrupted. His eyes were glassy and his hands moved robotically from plate to bowl to cutlery without pause, as if he really were some automation made for this job. Had anyone been watching, they would have found it rather nerve wracking to see a human be moving so lifelessly. Anyone who didn't know Zuko, at any rate.

Jin however, did know Zuko, and when she turned off the hot water, and he slowly looked up at her, she was fully expecting the lightless, glassy eyes slowly returning to their normal shade of gold. Jin patiently waited for Zuko to return to the land of the living, and when he did (shaking his head lightly as if to clear it), she waited for him to speak.

"Why'd you turn the water off…?"

His voice was a bit croaky, as if he'd just been crying, or muffling sobs. He was usually a bit off kilter after coming out of one of his self-imposed trances, so Jin thought nothing of it.

"If it got any hotter it would burn your hands, and you were so far in I don't think you would have noticed either."

"Oh…"

He looked down at his hands, which were a bit red.

"I didn't notice…"

Jin sighed, shaking her head lightly. She had known Zuko since he was thirteen, that was three years now. By now, most people would have left Zuko, deemed him a hopeless case and just given up, but not her. She had seen him for the first time just two months after he had acquired that scar, and it hadn't been a pretty sight. A huge eye patch over one side of his face, hair that in the photo Iroh had shown her hand been long and luscious was cropped short, his eyes were dull and he stuck so close to Iroh it was like he was his shadow.

No thirteen year old boy should look like that, no one in this world should. Over the next few months, Zuko slowly recovered and became more like the normal teenager he pretended to be. Key word, pretended. Now Jin had a little brother, and granted, he was four years younger than Zuko, but she knew him well enough to catch sight of everything about Zuko. He was good, she could give him that, he hid everything perfectly, but he wasn't good enough to fool a protective older sister like herself.

So Jin started doing something Zuko hadn't been expecting from anyone, she started treating him like a little brother. She gently teased him, not meanly, never, she had heard about his ACTUAL sister from Iroh enough, just playfully. She would mess with his elongating hair, poke and pinch his cheeks, use baby talk on him, sneak up behind him just to hear him scream in shock. She treated him the same way she treated Li, and slowly but surely, Zuko started changing.

His mask slowly slipped around her, falling away completely at some times. Jin knew it was worrying him, scaring him even, but she kept at it. She was determined to know this boy for real, determined to be someone he could turn to if ever he couldn't turn to his uncle. As much as Zuko resisted, she kept pushing, and she didn't stop until she had gotten that foolish mask completely out of the way.

It happened one day, a rainy Saturday when nothing interesting was really going on. Business was slow, and Jin was alone in the shop save the cooks in back and the waiters out front for a smoke. Iroh had gone out on some errand and left her in charge of the counter till he returned, and she was standing there wondering when he'd return.

The door opened and a drenched figure rushed in before she could even register it. She looked up in time to see Zuko standing there, clothes soak, hair stuck to his face, the bangs that he had begun to grow over his scarred eye sticking to his cheeks. It took her a moment to realize he was crying and she only really understood when he dropped his school bag and threw himself into her arms, sobbing against her chest like a young child, as he was. For a moment she had been completely shocked, but then she pulled him close and held him, telling him it was okay and she was right there.

After that, Zuko had let her in more and more until she was on almost the same level as Iroh was, and her position had never changed. Jin viewed herself, and she was almost sure Zuko did as well, as something of an older sister to him. The elder sibling he never had but always needed for those times when Iroh just couldn't be there.

Jin took the sponge from her little brother figure, tugging the stopper from the drain so the water would drain from the sink. Placing the sponge down, she took his hands in hers and led him over to the counter, where she grabbed a towel and began drying his hands off. He would have protested, but then he winced as he realized just how raw his skin was from the hot water and decided against it.

"What have I told you about doing something dangerous when you're like that?" she gently chastised. "I don't want you hurting yourself."

"Washing dishes isn't dangerous." he muttered.

"When you aren't paying attention it can be. What if you accidentally stab yourself or something?"

"Jin, I'm not THAT far in…"

"I'm just saying."

Laying down the towel, she sighed and put a hand on her hip.

"Those kids left about ten minutes ago, I think it's safe for you to come out now. I'm assuming they're the reason you went into that state again?"

Zuko looked away, trying to hide his forlorn face without throwing his mask up. He could barely even put up a thin sheet of a mask around Jin and Iroh, if he was alone with them, it just wasn't possible. They just saw right through it anyway, so it didn't even matter.

"Yeah…" he muttered again with a shrug of his shoulders. "No big deal, just something stupid."

The woman quirked an eyebrow.

"Zuko Hihoshi I have known you for three years now, you don't do that when it's "just something stupid". C'mon, tell big sis what's going on."

Zuko sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I'm just really sick of everyone wanting me for what I am on the outside and not on the inside. I want someone to want me for being ME, not for being Zuko Hihoshi."

"What'd that kid want?" she coaxed gently.

"Wanted me to be a model for his art or something." he shrugged again. "I didn't really care. He was just another person who liked my looks and wanted to use them…"

Jin frowned.

"That's not cool. I'm sorry Zuko, people out there are just idiots, that's all. You need to ignore them and move on."

Zuko nodded sullenly.

His hand raised of its own accord, brushing over his longer bangs and then over his scarred ear before dropping again. Jin knew what that meant, it meant he was thinking about that stupid and wretched scar again, thinking of how he would never be good enough because of it. Thinking how he was ruined for life, how no one would ever look beyond that, and a hundred other things that had been imposed on him by the world. She was not standing for it.

In his life, there had only been five people who had seen Zuko's scar to its fullest extent. Iroh, Jin, Azula, his father, and his childhood friend, Mai. No one else had ever gotten a proper look at the mark, a glimpse perhaps, but never a good, long look at it. Those who had had very good reasons, each that should be obvious according to who they are.

As it was, Jin knew very well that the scar was awful, gut wrenchingly so, and heart wrenchingly sad to think that had ever happened to someone like Zuko. But it wasn't ugly, and it didn't make him ugly, or vile, or anything else he might have thought it did. Sometimes, Zuko needed to be reminded of that, and Jin took it upon herself to do so in this moment.

Leaning forward, she pushed his bangs aside to reveal the scarred half of his face. Zuko flinched back slightly, but didn't move otherwise, showing his trust to Jin, believing in her enough to know that she would do nothing to harm him physically or emotionally. Jin looked at the scar for a moment before leaning forward and gently kissing the marred brow, just as she kissed her little brother's before he went to sleep. Zuko flinched again, but still didn't move as she pulled back, his golden eyes staring up at her quietly.

Jin grinned and ruffled his hair, making him scrunch his nose and duck away from her hand to fix his ebony locks.

"Snap outta it kiddo. It's all good, only friends here. Now go upstairs and have some time with your uncle, yeah? I'll make you guys some food."

Zuko flattened his bangs with an annoyed look before smiling softly at her.

"Thanks Jin." he murmured, before exiting the kitchen and going back upstairs to his uncle.

Jin smiled to herself, turning to set about making the two men some food for the evening, humming to herself. Unbeknownst, or perhaps he did know, to Zuko, his smile, which otherwise stayed hidden from everyone but his uncle, was all the thanks she needed in the end.


	4. Give the Media Some Blood to Spill

**A/N:** _VixenReborn_ brought it to my attention that I may have set Iroh off in a bad light. *sweat drop* Whoops. So the first part of this chapter is a quick foreshadow-y explanation.

**ALSO:** If you people don't freaking comment/review I'm going to stop writing this for the public and only send it to like, _VixenReborn, lulunabo _and _Jade258 _(stiiiiill in shock you read my storyyyy….) SO REVIEW AND COMMENT. NO UPDATES UNTIL I GET TEN REVIEWS ON THIS CHAPTER AND "CUTE/SWEET/AWWW" DOESN'T COUNT.

**EPIC IMPORTANT NOTE: ***FLAIL* MY COMPUTER GOT A VIRUS OH MY GOD I AM SOOOO SORRY EVERYONE! I WAS HOPING TO GET THIS DONE BEFORE NANOWRIMO STARTED BUT I HAS FAILED YOU ALL! TT_TT …..And then I got reaaaally lazy in the aftermath. BUT HERE I AM NOW. (Thank you _RandomPersonOfDoom, Jade258_, and _VixenReborn _for getting my ass in gear.)

_.:Chapter Three:._

Give the Media Some Blood to Spill

"…And don't forget that this weekend we're having some very important tea-drinkers over! I'm going to need all hands on deck!"

"Got it Uncle, I'll be there don't worry."

Zuko sat in his room at his desk, cell phone against his ear, listening to his uncle talking about tea again. Kibou was laying on her back on his bed, pawing at the air as she slept, perhaps chasing a mouse in her dream or something of the sort. While he was talking, Zuko had been watching his kitten with an amused air, feeling himself relax and ease up after the long school day. Azula was out somewhere with friends, or a boyfriend or something, he didn't really care. The point was he was alone in the house, and taking full advantage of the time to drop his usual mask.

A day had gone by since Zuko had met Aang, and he had pushed the other teenage male into the back of his mind as much as he could. He didn't want to depress himself over another person who he'd never speak to again, and so he'd gone about his daily life to the best of his abilities. Nothing else unusual had occurred since either, and Zuko was feeling rather relieved that he hadn't been confronted by the tattooed male. He wasn't entirely sure how he would have reacted emotionally if he had been.

"Hey uncle, I'm really sorry about how I acted when I came into the lab the other day. You know I'm not usually that childish and clingy. I'd had a really off day, and you know how I get, so…"

Iroh laughed on the other side of the line.

"Zuko, I've been taking care of you since you were a little boy, I knew the minute you walked in you'd had an off day. Don't worry, I'm not so old that having you act like a kid every now and then scares me."

"How are those two at ALL related uncle?"

Another laugh and Zuko rolled his eyes. Sometimes, only his uncle understood himself.

"I gotta go, love you uncle."

"Love you too Zuko, stay out of trouble."

"Trouble tends to find ME."

With one more goodbye, Zuko hung up, laying his phone down on his desk. He watched the front screen remain black, then light itself to reveal the time of 7:30 p.m. Had he really been talking to his uncle for an hour? Leaning back in his chair, he sighed and closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank for a little while.

Kibou meowed in her sleep, outside, the sun set.

In his mind, Zuko traced over anything that had happened over the past week that was worth remembering. He had had Monday off for some holiday he couldn't remember, then returned to school Tuesday to find a heap of tests that he was almost one hundred percent sure he aced anyway. Wednesday, Wednesday had been interesting. He'd been perfectly fine until he got off the bus and into the school grounds where he'd felt that damned stare that he was positive now had to have been Aang Kazekama. Then for the rest of the day he was utterly thrown off track and ended up in a very wonky state of being that resulted in one of his more minor emotional episodes. More minor meaning he didn't go into one of his two emotional meltdown phases, just acted a bit more childish and clung to his uncle. Those minor ones passed with time and were usually very controlled, and Jin and Iroh had become quite accustomed to them. Besides, they were happening less and less over time, thankfully.

But if his episode hadn't been bad enough, then that Kazekama boy had showed up and his day had just gone to emotional hell. At first he'd been shocked, then kind of hopeful, only to be crushed by the reality of the situation; That why would anyone who had only seen him once want him for anything more than his appearance? Who would want him for more after seeing him a hundred times even? That had brought on another much worse episode that nearly went over the edge if he hadn't calmed himself by doing the dishes (as crazy as that sounds). Jin had saved his hands from death by hot water burns though, which he was thankful for, because he really liked his hands thanks, he couldn't do much without them. Besides that, they looked a lot like his mother's hands, long and slender with fine nails that never seemed to break. But anyway.

Thursday, by comparison had been boring and uneventful. Even the appearance of a pop quiz in his calculus class had done nothing to spice up Zuko's day. He'd gone about with his mask on, avoided anywhere he thought Aang Kazekama might be (including the art room unless it was his art period), and basically had a pretty normal day. He'd gotten home to hear his sister's voice on the voicemail box, telling him she'd be out for the night with someone or other he didn't know or care about. After that, he had decided to do his homework, then talk to his uncle, and finally, just relax. So here he was, reclining in his desk chair, just letting his brain rest a bit before going to make himself dinner and go to bed. It felt good to ignore the world around him for a little while and just free his thoughts, he never really got the chance to on the daily. So often he simply pent everything up inside of him, it was hard to keep it all down. At times like these though, he could just let the feelings wash through him and disappear once they'd run their course. Sometimes that involved crying, or screaming into the open air, or feeling like his whole body was filled with pins and needles, but it was worth it once all the old, pent up emotions were gone.

This time, his emotions flowed without much prompting and just left him after a quick run of feeling. Apparently his two episodes the day before had been enough to loosen up even the worst of the emotions he'd been holding in for…what, two, three weeks now? Most of the more unpleasant ones were gone now though, thanks to his almost-burned-my-hands dish washing session yesterday. Zuko wasn't entirely sure if he was pleased about this or not. Sure it was never exactly pleasant to let go of those emotions, never would be, but he wished it hadn't been brought on so abruptly and without any forewarning.

Sighing, Zuko opened his eyes again and staring up at his ceiling. It was some time at night when he should be doing something productive but really wasn't all the interested in doing so. Outside, the sky had returned to an inky black state. Kibou was waking up, rolling from side to side as her dreams evened out inside her head. Zuko was very bored and slightly disgruntled all of a sudden, frowning up at the ceiling in contemplation.

Some foreign instinct within him was telling him that something very strange was about to happen to him, and it might be best not to get out of bed tomorrow.

Yet, hours later, once more at 6:25 a.m., Zuko Hihoshi was uncurling himself from the comforting warmth of his blankets and getting ready for yet another day. Kibou had woken him up again, but she'd done it almost hesitantly, as if her own animal instincts were alerting her to what Zuko's had the night before. But he paid no mind, showered, dressed and went about making himself a larger breakfast than usual on the account that one, it was Friday, and two, Azula had apparently stayed the night at wherever she had been.

He had, of course, received no call, text or even voicemail about this, but there was little else to assume considering she wasn't in the house. There was always the chance that she had died in some drunken accident and they were still identifying the remains, but seriously? She was probably still over at what's his face's house either sleeping or still partying. Zuko was very much inclined towards the latter, and wouldn't be surprised if she didn't show up for school. Not like it mattered anyway, she was the golden girl of the world. No one ever blamed anything on her, and if they did, her dearest daddy set them straight.

Zuko on the other hand, fended for himself, and so far, it hadn't exactly gotten him anywhere, but it kept him out of trouble and in most teacher's good graces. That, at least, had to count for something. Out of everything in the world, grades seemed to be the only thing he could beat Azula at, which in most circumstances would count for quite a bit. But in this situation it counted for absolutely nothing, considering Azula was having a multibillion dollar company dropped onto her lap the minute her father retired.

Even when he won at something, Zuko never could seem to win overall.

Kibou ate as silently as she could, preferring not to distract her master from the thoughts she was sure were currently ricocheting around his head. Without Azula around, he could get some of his deeper thoughts out of the way for the day so he could concentrate more on school. Though it truly never seemed to make a difference if he paid attention or not, on principal, it was best to, at the least, attempt to appear alert.

Zuko, for his part, really was letting him mind wander again, even though he'd done it just last night. There wasn't much on his mind, nothing really to think about, at the moment, which was rather annoying. Naturally one of the few mornings he had to himself he'd actually be utterly free of thought, the world just loved irritating him, didn't it?

The pair ate in contemplative silence, Zuko allowing his mind to go wherever it wanted, willing it to at least go somewhere instead of staying blank, Kibou just enjoying her master's company. She sat, purring softly once she'd finished her food, head tilted to the side as her master gently petted her ears and neck. It was mornings like these when Zuko was relaxed and without care that Kibou loved best, she much preferred her master in this state to that fake calm that was really just barely masked anger or annoyance.

While Zuko's mind trailed along whatever it came upon (Li, his uncle, Kibou, Jin, the teashop, last night's history homework), Kibou was watching the clock for him, considering she knew he wasn't. Zuko never really paid attention to the time unless he was already out of his thoughts, so it was usually down to Kibou to pull him back to reality at the right times. Today it was seven fifteen when she nudged his elbow, once, then twice, then pushed his sleeve (he was wearing a sweatshirt already and it was covering his arm) up from his wrist to bite the pale skin gently.

Zuko snapped out of it and looked up at the clock before sighing regretfully. Petting Kibou's head to be sure she knew he wasn't mad at her for biting him (she never bit him hard unless she really was annoyed at him), Zuko placed his dishes in the sink before slinking back upstairs to throw on his shoes and grab his bag.

The bus ride was uneventful as per usual except for the fact that the old woman sat next to him in favor of a chatty blond on her cell phone. Whoever the girl was, she thought she was cute (and thought he was cute apparently) and obviously hadn't heard that meeting a guy on the bus was never the way to go. The old woman (whose name Zuko STILL wasn't sure of) had instantly taken up residency in the seat beside him with her knitting, much to his relief and the blonde's chagrin. The woman had ended up next to a beer bellied businessman with grease on his shirt and a neck the size of a soccer ball.

The old woman smelled like butterscotch, and as far as bus rides were concerned, Zuko found this this one pleasantly relaxing thanks to the sweet candy scent. But still, even with the nice smell and the lack of talkative blonde women intent on "seducing" him, there was something off about the day that Zuko just couldn't very well put his finger on. It had been there all morning, and most of last night too, even when his mind had been drifting it had been there, just lurking behind the scenes. It was like there was something hanging over his head that he just couldn't figure out, like he was forgetting something he didn't even know.

Zuko pushed such thoughts away however. Fearful notions, any kind of doubt, usually found a chink in his mask and slid through to the outside. The last thing he needed was that seeping through, and especially when the day had started out so nicely and he was in a good mood. Or, well, as good of a mood as he ever got, really. He didn't want a day messed up just because he was being paranoid, it was probably nothing, really, and he was just being a bit skittish. It wouldn't be the first time.

He left the bus with his usual "goodbye" to the driver and a wave to the old woman who smiled and waved back, before he was back on the sidewalk and making his way towards school. Not once since he properly met Aang had he felt the other teen's eyes on him, and this morning was no different. There were the usual throngs of adoring fans and would-be suitors, but nothing more, and Zuko took this as a sign that the day wasn't going to go too badly after all.

His first period class went by without much consequence, as per usual. His schedule was different almost every day (though he had homeroom at the same time) and today, Friday, he had Foreign Literature first period. In his ever-so-exciting Foreign Lit. class (where he knew everything, like always), they were reading a book by some semi-famous French author who apparently decided that hiring a translator for the sake of readers in other countries wasn't worth his time. So they were reading it in only one in the class who even understood French? Zuko. So naturally, he had finished the book the week they received it, already typed, edited, reedited and revised his report draft three times, made the final copy, had it saved on his hard drive and had a paper copy in his school bag. So basically, during his Foreign Lit. class, for the next who knew how many weeks, Zuko would be sitting there, utterly bored, staring out the window. It didn't really help matters that his teacher was fully aware of this and left him alone about it while the rest of the class goofed off and got NO reading done.

Second period dropped him into homeroom, like it was everyday, where nothing really happened. Homeroom was where announcements were made, really, and if you had a tutor in your grade (or the grade above seeing as it was a mix of both grades) you could get some tutoring in. It was basically a study hall, except you weren't required to be quiet or study at all. Any announcements were usually group or team oriented, and Zuko had no interest in that, and got over with in perhaps the first fifteen minutes of the period. Why the staff had decided a whole period was needed for homeroom, Zuko still wasn't sure.

Still, he couldn't complain, really. Even he needed to study sometimes, specifically when there was going to be a test in his next class, as there was going to be today. Most other homerooms were spent either idly writing in his notebook or staring out the window in his own little world (mask still carefully in place, of course). Physics however, wasn't exactly Zuko's strongest point. Sure he still passed with an straight, clean A like every other class, but he still found it challenging enough to be worth studying for.

So naturally, today, he had his physics textbook and notes set out in front of him and was carefully looking over and comparing them, even though he'd studied the night before. It was best to be safe than sorry, right? And he wanted to pass this test, even if it wouldn't really effect his grade too much.

"U-uhm, M-Mr. H-Hihoshi, s-sir?"Zuko glanced up at the sound of his last name, then promptly looked down again. This happened at least three times a week or more, depending on if he had done a shoot lately or not. He hadn't done one for at least two weeks now, so everything had been pretty chill, but as it was Friday and the week had yet to meet its quota, he'd been expecting this.

Four girls stood beside his desk, magazines clutched in their hands, each opened to about the same page, or at least the same spread. One of the girls was a senior, but the other three were juniors like himself, though he'd seen girls from all walks of school life approach him before. They weren't of a particular group or clique, one of the girls he was pretty sure was on the soccer team, another tennis, the other two he was almost positive were in photography club, but otherwise pretty average young women. "W-we were wondering if y-you'd sign our magazines…"Zuko wanted to sigh and snap that no, he absolutely would not sign that trash, but decided against it. As a young child, even he had had a celebrity crush (a European actress with deep red-brown hair and the prettiest emerald eyes), and he knew that rejection of any kind, especially from someone you admired, really hurt. Zuko couldn't blame these girls for thinking him attractive and wishing for some kind of sign of recognition from him, it was a natural human instinct.

And honestly, if it was really going to make these girl's day to have him scribble his name on a photo of himself in some magazine he didn't even know the name of, fine. Despite outwards appearances, Zuko liked making other happy or pleased. If he couldn't be able to feel happiness, then at least others could, right?

"…Sure."

The four girls gasped and exchanged looks of gleeful shock. Zuko waited patiently for the first one to approach him with her pen, setting down his own pencil in preparation.

The younger girls allowed the senior to walk up to him first and lay her magazine down atop his closed textbooks. She was careful not to disrupt his set up for studying, setting an example for the other girls of what to do. Zuko was grateful she wasn't one of the more hyper fangirls, and picked up her pen without complaint.

"Who should I make it out to…?"

"Ming Wong, please."

Zuko wrote "To Ming Wong" in his loopy cursive, then quickly signed his name, capped Ming's pen, and handed both the magazine and the sharpie back to her. The senior girl beamed at him and stepped back to let the other girls ask for his signature.

Three more magazine passed under his hands (Tae Sakagawa, Miu Naomi and Yhen Xiao) before he could return once more to studying. The girls thanked him again with blushes on their faces before scampering away to their table in the back, giggling. If Zuko hadn't been wearing his mask he would have smiled. He'd obviously just pleased those girls greatly, and it was very, very nice to see them so happy over something he thought so trivial. If a bit of ink on paper made them happy, who was he to deny them?

The remainder of homeroom passed without anything out of the ordinary occurring, and physics, his third period class, spun around soon after. He managed to make his way through the test before everyone else, even though he was cursing in three different languages in his head. He'd probably scored a ninety-five at the least, but he could have done better he was sure. Though, then again, Zuko often told himself he could have done better, so perhaps it was just a sort of complex he had…?

Fourth period wasn't very exciting at all, and it passed in a blur of noise and color that Zuko wouldn't bother even trying to retain within his memory. It was one of the classes he aced without honestly thinking about it, so he never really recalled exactly what it was. (He was almost sure it was history, but he couldn't be sure.) In classes like those, he ran on automatic, and rarely interacted with those around him. He was the first to get there and left with the crowd so he didn't draw any attention to himself.

Fifth period was lunch, which happened to be some gyoza from his uncle's shop and a thermos of miso soup. Zuko preferred eating from his heritage (or, oriental as people insisted on calling it) when he could. Being half Japanese half Chinese left one with a lot of open options for good food, and it really helped that his uncle was a master chef. He'd spent many childhood hours attempting old fashioned recipes with his uncle, improving upon them and perfecting them. Cooking, no matter how "girly" it was, was a good hobby to have, and it had served him well throughout his lifetime. (Those who ate his cooking would readily agree.)

Period six was pre-calc, where Zuko sat and listened intently to the lecture on integers while the rest of the class slept. It was weird, but Zuko really found pre-calc kind of interesting, something about breaking everything in the world down to simple numbers and explaining it with logic and reason was just fascinating. In his life, there wasn't much he could explain away with simplicity, so having a set of numbers and being told, here, this means this because of this reason, was nice. It sounded silly, even to him, but he didn't care.

Granted, Zuko had studied all of this on his own in his free time, but there was nothing wrong with hearing it all over again. Besides, his teacher was rather good at making things interesting, so Zuko thought it was okay to indulge in one class where he honestly paid attention.

Seventh period was his second to last for the day, English, an enjoyable, but easy class. Zuko loved English with a passion and always made sure he got a straight across the board one hundred in it, if only for his own sake. Next to pre-calc, English was the only class he ever put any effort into (well, Art too, sometimes) with his conscious thought.

This was half because he loved writing and literature (hence he was taking Foreign Lit. AND English) and half because this class had the only teacher who treated him as more than an oddly smart school celebrity.

Jun-sensei, as she insisted on being called, looked way too young to be a teacher, but was a surprisingly strict disciplinarian. But she was also very accommodating and helpful to her better students, like Zuko for example. She had taken on look at the first paper he wrote for the class and insisted he stay after to speak to her.

Now, instead of just getting the projects everyone else did, he also got extra work, to keep him busy. Jun also refused to call him "Hihoshi" and always referred to him as "Zuko" or "Prince" or something equally would-be-demeaning. She had a way of making it feel like he was just being poked at by an older sibling, and by this point (his second year of having her as a teacher) Zuko had long since become accustomed to quipping quietly back at her.

Today, she handed out a work packet that "If you don't finish it in class cause you're being lazy sloth-like blobs, well then you better be ready to do it over the weekend without any help ya boobs!" which Zuko scanned over and decided he would finish in class so he could work on the extra assignment over the weekend. (Which was another packet.)

"Hey there prince poutykins, how's the kingdom of brooding?"

"Same as the kingdom of witches, I'm sure how you know what that place is like."

Jun just cackled, ruffled his hair (away from his bangs, she had learned the year before that he didn't like anyone touching over there) and continued on her way. Zuko inwardly smiled to himself as she went, glad that he had at least one person in school (an authority figure at that) on his side. Or, at least that liked him.

Seventh period ended and Zuko left the classroom with a last small wave to his teacher, before slipping out into the hallway and into the crowd of students. The only class he had next was study hall, which was an optional class when one had it last period in their school. Zuko was intent on going anyway, never wanting to turn down an opportunity to stay as far away from his house as humanly possible, despite having finished all his homework in his classes. It never hurt to get a little extra writing done, anyway, and Jun would be pleased to find something new in his ever-present writing journal. (Which, by the way, she routinely snatched from him to read from.)

There were two ways to get to his study hall however, the long way, around the front of the school or the short way through the hallways. His school had several "front doors" that the students used regularly throughout the day. Besides, sometimes walking on the grounds to class was far more pleasant than walking in the stuffy hallways. Despite this fact, Zuko would usually have taken the short way so he could get there first, and he made his way towards the hallway, but was thwarted. A crowd of students stood around two of the school jocks, cheering them on as they play fought, throwing taunts and idle threats back and forth. There was no possible way he'd be able to get through to the staircase to his classroom, no matter how hard he tried.

Sighing to himself, Zuko turned around again and slipped from within the school without being noticed into the outside world, where he was met with a calm, chilled breeze and the soft twittering of a pair of nearby robins. He began walking around the side of the school towards his study hall, feet plodding softly on the earth, eyes downcast and unseeing. He didn't know or care if there were other people around him, and if there were he completely ignored them. No one bothered trying to talk to him anyway, and if he had been paying any attention, he would have noticed that there was in fact, no one but him.

Zuko was halfway around the building, about six yards from the next entrance into the school, where he would usually have slipped inside and dashed to his study hall and hid in the back corner of the room like always. But for once, he was stopped, and here came the moment that he had subconsciously dreaded to wake up and leave bed for. It seemed like no matter the time or place, fate, or whatever it was, had it out for him in some way.

"Zuko! Wait, Zuko, hold up!"

Half of Zuko wanted to not even bother looking like he heard, the other half wanted to sprint as far away from that voice as he humanly could and it all came down to his mask making him slow his walk till he was standing still. On the outside he looked calm and uncaring, but on the inside his heart was thundering with a mix of anger and a slight touch of fear. Most often people backed off once he had rejected them, especially the way he had, but again his worst fears were confirmed…

And Aang Kazekama wasn't just "people".

Aang stopped about three feet from him, pausing to catch his breath. He had obviously run after Zuko, his bag still open and a binder half tucked into it, sweatshirt thrown over the strap. He wore a pair of jeans that looked about ready to fall apart at the seams and a black band shirt of the Beatles.

"Phew…Wow, you walk really fast, you know that?" he said with a half-laugh.

Zuko didn't respond, giving Aang a look that clearly said to spit it out or stop wasting his time. Thankfully, Aang seemed to get the message.

"I, uh, well I know you basically told me to screw off but I was really hoping to try to convince you to be my model." Aang said sheepishly. "I was gonna wait until after school but I sort of figured I might lose you in the crowd."

Zuko clenched his fist by his side where Aang couldn't see, trying very hard to quell the urge to turn and run away from this youth at top speed.

"Didn't I tell you?" he asked in a voice that sounded like the user was both annoyed and a touch weary. "Look at some magazines, there are plenty of pictures to work from, now leave me alone."

"Ah- Wait!"

For some reason, Zuko wasn't entirely sure, he did in fact pause in his steps to look back over at Aang. The taller teen was rummaging through his school bag quickly until he pulled something out, which turned out to be a teen magazine. Zuko flinched as he saw the ad for a three page spread of himself and wished he could burn the damn thing on the spot. Yet, still he didn't move, and he had no idea why.

"I went through this magazine like you said, I mean, I figured you said to go away so I would, but, well…" he glanced down at the cover, then looked back up at Zuko. "They're fake."

For a moment, Zuko just stared at him, kind of half not believing what he had just heard before narrowing his eyes and snarling;

"What the hell, of course they aren't fake!"

"Yeah, yeah they are."

"What are you trying to say, that's me, they're not photoshopped either I was there the entire time, how dare you say they were faked!"

"No, I'm not saying they WERE faked, I'm saying they are FAKE."

Zuko glared at him questioningly, not sure where the other male was going with this.

"….What do you mean."

"I mean, look at them…"

Aang flipped open to one of the pages and held it up so Zuko could see with one hand. He resisted the urge to flinch, or quickly turn away, just quietly stared at the images that made him want to wretch.

"They're all just…fake." Aang said softly. "There's no…life, in them."

Zuko barely schooled his expression in time to stop himself from going wide eyed. His glare disappeared, and a wave of shock rippled through him, but he somehow stamped down the braces keeping his mask in place and prayed it wouldn't give way. But Aang Kazekama wasn't done yet…

"There's no emotion, no, well, no life, they're not real… They're like inanimate objects or some cheap merchandise, they're not… I mean they're pretty to look at, sure, I'll give it that, but they're so dead they kind of make me feel like crying if I look too long…"

Had his mask been down, Zuko would have been quaking where he stood, backing up further and further away from his current companion. No one had ever said anything like this before, no one had even noticed… Every time Zuko did a shoot he died a little more, hated himself a little more strongly, closed himself off to the outside world a bit tighter. And when the shoot was going on? He shut down, closed off, all feeling and emotion left him.

No one had ever seen that. No one had ever cared about that. No one but Aang Kazekama, and that terrified him.

"I…I don't really want to paint marketing, or a dead man…"

Aang sounded a touch awkward, as if he was about to say something he found rather embarrassing. He closed the magazine and let it drop to his side, raising his other hand to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, eyes averted. Finally, he looked back at Zuko, straight into his eyes, ice silver cutting right through the dull gold.

"I just want to paint you."

Zuko's mouth went completely dry, and behind the mask, he started to quickly shut down, too much emotion all at once sending him into a tailspin.

Aang just watched him nervously, and Zuko took the moment of apprehension to once more look over the teen, this time not aesthetically, but mentally. He was kinder and more easy going than his appearance suggested, and he seemed really respectful, much to Zuko's shock. There was an unexplainable aura of "come here, I'll help you" around him, and he just seemed like the kind of person people would gravitate too. His smiles were never fake, his laughs were full of emotion and had it not been Zuko, would have been contagious, and he looked ready to offer anyone a helping hand and a kind word.

He was exactly the kind of person Zuko feared; The kind of person who could never leave alone a bleeding heart, or someone hurt by anything. He just had to help everyone he could, for no reason but because he wanted to.

Zuko wanted to hate him. Really, really, really wanted to hate him.

But he couldn't.

Shakily (behind his mask, of course), Zuko opened his mouth and said, very quietly;

"I…I'll….I'll talk to my father about it….I can't promise anything but…"

He had no need of finishing the sentence. Aang's eyes lit up and he beamed, and for a moment Zuko was sure he was blinded by the sheer amount of happiness radiating off of the other boy.

"Really?"

A quick, curt nod.

"I, wow, thank you! This means a lot Zuko, thank you so much."

Another curt nod. Zuko was starting to lose control, things were starting to fray around the edges. His emotions told him to run at top speed away from here now before he broke down in an episode in school. Least of all in front of Aang Kazekama.

"Here, look, when you have his permission, or, uh, don't, call me here."

He quickly pulled out a tiny sketch book, scribbled something on one of the pages, and held it out for Zuko. He took the offered paper, still mentally hyperventilating, and sent one last, curt nod in Aang's direction."I'll call."And with that he turned around and started walking again, and this time he wasn't stopped. Once he was around the side of the school and was sure he wasn't being followed, he bolted for the front gates, for the first time in a very, very long time, forsaking school to dash home at top speed.

* * *

**A/N:** CONSIDER DIS MAH CHRISTMAS PRESENT. Nyah.

This is especially to... _Yuuram93_ on dA...and...whoever you are...on here... ...WHO IS YOU YUU-SAN? D:


	5. Who's Dead in the Family Portrait

**A/N:** I have a confession to make to all my readers, specifically those who say "You're such an amazing writer" and the like…. I'm a fourteen year old freshman in High School. There. I said it. Take the news as you will my friends.

Might I add; MUCH as I LOVE Story Alerts, REVIEW. PLEASE. Just a sentence or two will be okay…. Q _ Q Please? I want to know what you think, and what you like and don't like. It helps me improve the story drastically.

_.:Chapter Four:._

Who's Dead in the Family Portrait

There were very few words in the world that Zuko feared, because for one, come on, they were words, they couldn't exactly hurt him outright. And for two, there was the fact that he'd grown up with so many scathing, scalding, hurtful words being slammed into him by his own family, nothing fazed him all that much anymore. The words he DID fear however, were "I'm sorry but your Uncle…" which he'd never heard before and hoped he wouldn't for a very long time yet and "Father is coming home". The second one he had just heard from his sister upon arriving back at their home.

He almost had a heart attack when his sister greeted him in a relatively bored tone, but managed to slam down the restraints keeping his mask in place. He'd mumbled a hello back at her and stripped off his jacket and was about to take off his bag when she dropped the "Dad's back" bomb. This time he did flinch, and it was one of the few things Azula would never tease him about, being afraid of their father, mostly because she knew he had a DAMN good reason to be.

Zuko had been out of it all the way home, brain caught between confusion and unrest and decidedly without the wish to move in either direction. Since Aang Kazekama had come bursting quite unexpectedly into his life, his whole world had gone topsy turvy. Only, it wasn't the quick dump you on your head so the world is upside down kind, it was the slowly displacing everything you've been holding onto kind. And that was worse, because what Zuko clung to were the few and far between things keeping him sane.

He'd been hoping that he'd have the house to himself again so he could have a release for the night (another so quickly? Yes, even he was shocked.), or at least that only Azula would be home, but no such luck apparently. It seemed his mask would have to be kept up all the way until he saw his uncle again the next day. That didn't quite bode so well, considering he kept a portion of the mask in place even in his uncle's teashop (he'd hired a few new people, and until Zuko was used to them the mask was staying), which meant he was in for a long haul emotionally. It was nothing he couldn't handle under normal circumstances.

But thanks to one artist, this was no longer anywhere near normal circumstances and Zuko was hoping desperately that his uncle would let him bring Kibou to the teashop the next day. She always made him a lot calmer, mostly because her tiny little life was in his hands, and if he lost it, she was as good as gone. That sounded rather morbid, but it was more of the protective side of him that had long been encompassed by fear and timidness peaking through.

Zuko sighed and shifted his bag on his shoulder, glancing at the doorway where Kibou stood, eyeing his sister warily.

"Should I make dinner or is father buying?" he asked.

"Father said you should cook. I think he's going through another "all restaurants are run by foreign imbeciles" phase. It won't last."

Zuko shrugged indifferently, quietly ducking around his sister and leaning down to scoop up his cat before going to his room. Kibou curled into his arms, tailing slipping around his slender wrist comfortingly, feeling her master's discomfit without him so much as frowning. It sometimes paid to be an animal, who could tell emotions simply by a person's scent, especially with a master like Zuko.

Once inside his room, he resisted the urge to flop down on his bed and not move for a few hours, dropping his bag by his desk instead and putting Kibou down atop his dresser. Kibou reluctantly left his arms, watching, tail wrapped around her paws as she sat, as he changed into a loose fitting gray shirt with long sleeves. Zuko left on his jeans, if only because they were comfortable, but toed off his shoes and socks, then held out his arm, indicating she should get on his shoulders.

Kibou leapt lightly onto the human's outstretched arm and padded carefully up to his shoulders, where she curled herself without complaint, tail flicking so it hit his throat every now and again. Zuko scratched her ears affectionately, into which she tilted her head, leaving his room.

They were back downstairs in the kitchen in minutes, the only sign that Azula was there being the sounds of the TV from the living room. It was a good thing that by this time, it was a long determined fact that Zuko was the cook of the house, and that when he was meant to be making a meal, it was best not to interrupt him. It was one of the few things that had stood firm in the family since…

Anyway.

Some small part of Zuko really wished that he'd had more warning about his father coming home, as he wasn't entirely sure how many groceries they had that weren't microwave dinners or some kind of just add water crap. He could whip up a meal from himself out of practically nothing, but his entire family was another matter. Still, Iroh had taught him well and he would manage.

Kibou remained on his shoulders as he opened the fridge and looked inside, peering in with him, wrinkling her nose. After a moment, he turned his head to look at her, as if asking her opinion, and she wrinkled her nose further.

"Yeah, trust me." he muttered. "I'm hoping we've got better in the freezer too."

He closed the door and stood straight again, opening the door to the freezer and looking inside. Kibou curled closer around his neck as the rush of cold air from the freezer struck them, conveniently keeping his neck warm and herself. Zuko frowned as he reached into the freezer, moving around some of the empty ice cream cartons and two bottles of vodka his father and Azula insisted on keeping in there.

"Oh come on." he muttered to himself. "Don't tell me we've got NOTHING in the damn house."

He made a mental note to go shopping some time soon. He would have done it over the weekend, but he was with his uncle from the next morning till… Well honestly until whenever he wanted, but he was just packing for the weekend. Unless of course something went horribly wrong at dinner tonight, in which case he'd pack for a damn month. It wouldn't be the first time, that was for sure.

Zuko let out an "Ah-HA" of triumph as his hand hit what was no doubt a package of some sort of meat, and pulling it out, he was happy to see a pack of chicken cutlets. They weren't even over their expiration date! Awesome.

He quickly closed the freezer and set the cutlets on the counter, crossing his arms and staring down at them. It was wonderful and all that he actually had some substantial food to work with, but he had no idea what to do with it. He preferred fish and beef to chicken. Chicken was dry a bit too often for his tastes. Accepting when his uncle made it, because Iroh somehow managed to make the perfect example of every kind of food imaginable.

He let his mind wander around to different chicken dishes he had eaten, trying to decide what they most likely had and what they didn't. He jumped from roast chicken to barbeque to pasta then salad. His brain landed him on chicken dumplings, which brought him around to pork dumplings, which dragged him to thoughts of his uncle's teashop and before he could even try to stop himself… How was it that Aang Kazekama managed to interrupt his thoughts even when he was trying to cook DINNER?

Zuko sighed, letting his head fall forward as his emotions took control of his thoughts, ripping him away from reality forcefully. He could have resisted if he wanted to, but he needed a release, badly. A minor escape would have to do though.

The first thing that came to mind was that Aang Kazekama was persistent, and while mask Zuko hated that with a passion, unmasked Zuko wasn't entirely sure whether he liked it or feared it. He was also respectful, an odd combination to be sure. Usually, persistent people picked at something until it gave way and then moved on to the next challenge, but Aang backed off. He did as Zuko had said, looking through magazines before speaking to him again.

And what he had said, Zuko was still reeling. It was unsurprising that he was still in shock about it though, it had only been about an hour since they had spoken. Still, it had been a hard blow, the kind that comes when someone says something that really strikes you down to the core. Even something that isn't supposed to be hurtful, like in this case.

The moment Zuko stepped foot into a photo shoot, whether it be in a studio, outdoors, or at some rich establishment, his mask went up. All emotion dropped, compliance slipped in for understanding, the word "smile" meant about as much as the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. He was a living doll who the photographers molded into their own perfect image of desire. Zuko knew he was just an outlet, knew he was just a face to be plastered on name brands of soulless concoctions for the overpaying masses. And he knew that every picture, every snapshot, took away a little bit more of his life, a little more of his will, and one day, he wasn't even going to be there anymore.

But no one else had ever seen it. No one else had even bothered to LOOK.

No one but Aang Kazekama.

Zuko returned to the world of the living only long enough to realize he was leaning against the counter, arms bracing him, fingers digging into the polished countertop till his knuckles were white. Aang Kazekama scared him. Aang Kazekama was his worst nightmare. Aang Kazekama was the first person to see past the first layer of his mask without even trying and at the moment, whether emotionally or mentally, Zuko just couldn't handle that.

Take a breath. He told himself, just breathe. Go, model for him for a bit, get out. It's just like another shoot, nothing important, nothing to be remembered. He'll become just another face in the crowd after not too long. Just another one of the clamoring crowd begging for his blood on the front cover.

Zuko could handle that.

He snatched up the chicken cutlets and placed them on the stove top, then opened a cabinet and pulling out a bag of rice. Faintly remembering zucchini in the crisper and some spices in another cabinet, he collected those too along with a saucepan. It wasn't a whole lot, sure, but it was better than having his father come home to no food at all. Last time that had happened hadn't ended so well.

Kibou leapt off his shoulders to nudge a knife towards him with her nose, sitting with her tail around her paws again once it was by his hand. Zuko rubbed her head affectionately, smiling at her softly, so that it was barely noticeable.

"Thank you Kibou." he murmured.

She mewed happily, purring. She always liked it when Zuko praised her, especially when she got one of those tiny smiles with it. Those made the task, however hard, completely worth it in the end.

Zuko unwrapped the chicken and set the cutlets of meat in the saucepan, turning to chop the zucchini, leaving the stove off. Kibou jumped back onto his shoulders, scrabbling at his back with her hind legs for a moment before dragging herself up onto his shoulders again.

The next thirty-five or so minutes passed in relative silence as Zuko cooked the rice and sautéed the chicken, baking the zucchini and throwing it in with the chicken once it was done. He wasn't entirely sure the name of the dish, but it was some sort of European dish where the chicken and zucchini were in a light, broth like sauce to be put over rice and served as hot as possible. Or something like that. (Yes, Zuko did watch the cooking channel. So sue him, it was the Iroh blood in him.)

Just as Zuko was throwing in the last handful of spices into the rice (rosemary, dried and ground by hand (he should know, he did it)), when the sound he dreaded most met his ears. He and Azula always used their keys to come into the house. If he got home first, he always locked the door behind him, and likewise for her. The sound of a key in the lock meant a sibling was returning, but they never locked the door when their father was to be home.

And so, the sounds of the doorknob turning and opening, practically soundless save that click that meant the lock was pulling back, scared Zuko more than anything else. He swallowed thickly, telling himself to concentrate on the food and keeping his mask riveted in place. Kibou's claws dug into his shoulder, and had his mask been down he would have winced in pain. Instead, he clung to the sharp pain in his left shoulder, willing it to keep him at least a little bit alive. If his mask fully took over, there was no telling when he would be able to take it off again, and that would hurt him more than having it off right now.

The sizzling of browning chicken and soft bubbling of the rice did nothing to drown the sounds of his father's footsteps down the hall, or calm his heart, thundering so loudly he was sure people could hear it halfway around the world. To say Zuko was scared would be the understatement of the universe. He was beyond terrified, and Ozai no doubt knew it.

"Ah, I see your sister has told you I was to be returning."

Kibou's claws dug into his shoulder even more and he knew he would need to bandage it later but he just didn't care.

"Yes." he agreed softly. "I was rather surprised."

"What?" Ozai said, no doubt taking a step into the room. "No welcome home? Are you so afraid to face your own father Zuko?"

Zuko bit the inside of his lips hard to stop himself from saying yes.

His father said his name like it was a curse, dripping disgust and venom, making his blood run cold. It was better than when he was really trying to say his name to show his disgust, or anger for that matter, but all the same. Zuko was almost sure that other people's fathers did not say their names in such a manner, he knew Ozai said Azula's name like it was some kind of virtuous angel's title.

He was long past the age where he tried to convince himself that he was just imagining it, because no father could HATE their own son… That had been a long time ago. Now he knew better. Now he swallowed the bile rising in the back of his throat and turned his head to face his father, eyes closed off and dull.

"Welcome back father." he said in a monotone voice.

In many ways, his family was much like his mask. Just a mirage, an image set up to help those around them cope. No one would believe that Ozai Hihoshi, multimillionaire, despised his son and treated his daughter like a princess. No one would believe that their perfect family was in fact in shambles and the only thing holding them together were the thin threads of the covering they put up.

Zuko didn't mean welcome back, he meant please, just leave, please don't hurt me again. He didn't mean father, he meant monster. And he couldn't bring himself to say welcome home, because if this was a home, then he would rather be homeless.

"I see dinner is almost ready. Azula and I will wait at the table."

Zuko would swear he breathed easier the moment his father left the room.

Kibou's claws retracted from his shoulder, and as much as it hurt, it didn't hurt as much as the pounding of his heart against his ribcage in fear. He could handle both though, as long as his mask was up and held in place by his own willpower, of which there was a lot. When on the inside his was quaking and cringing, whimpering in fear like a kicked dog.

Zuko served the food on three plates, and took a small bit of pride in the way it looked perfectly picturesque. Iroh had taught him that if he was going to spend his time making good food, make it LOOK like good food. As with everything his uncle said, Zuko took it to heart and executed it on every meal he made for everyone but himself. He could care less what his own food looked like.

Balancing two plates on one arm and holding the other two in either hand, he walked into the dining room, rarely used by himself or his sister and therefore in pristine condition, even cleaner than the rest of the immaculate house. He placed the first plate in front of his father, then his sister and left the third at a place for himself. Feeling as though he were suffocating, he ducked out of the room and back into the kitchen to grab the cutlery. Kibou jumped reluctantly off of his shoulders with a mournful mew. She knew she wasn't allowed at the dinner table when Ozai was home.

Zuko smiled sadly at her, leaning over and kissing her forehead before disappearing back into the dining room with the utensils.

The next forty minutes of Zuko's life were his own personal hell. The self imposed image of a perfect family stayed in place, idle chat was made and they ate quietly. To the outward observer, nothing would appear to be wrong at all, just a father eating with his two children. But to Zuko it felt like there was a hand clenched around his throat, blunt nails digging into his skin, not yet drawing blood but so close it was even more painful.

As usual he had given himself the least food, because he knew the longer he ate, the more his hands would shake and the more obvious it would be that he was scared out of his MIND… But for now, he took carefully measured bites, listening to his father and sister speaking, talking only when talked to. He prided himself on the aloof and easy going image he put out in front of his family, and whether they saw through it or not, they acted as though they didn't.

As expected, Zuko finished eating first, sitting quietly and waiting for his father to finish as his sister took the last few bites of her food. Once done she picked up her plate and her brother's, taking them to the kitchen, leaving Zuko alone with their father.

Ozai wiped his mouth with a napkin and steepled his fingers, turning his head to look at his son.

"Has anything of importance happened Zuko? Any new offers?"

Zuko resisted the urge to shrink back and instead shifted in his seat slightly.

"Nothing from any magazines." he said. "The shoot I did last week just came out, so they'll want that to blow over before the next one."

Ozai raised an eyebrow.

"But?" he asked.

Zuko fidgeted slightly, biting his bottom lip. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small piece of paper with Aang Kazekama's phone number on it. He laid it on the polished wood of the tabletop and slid it to arms length away from him in the direction of his father.

"I got an offer to be an artist's personal model." he mumbled.

Ozai delicately picked up the piece of paper with his long fingers, looking it over in a scrutinizing manner.

"And who is this artist?" he asked.

"His name is Aang Kazekama."

Zuko watched as his father looked at the number, though his eyes said he was elsewhere entirely. It was one of those times when Zuko had the sinking feeling his father knew something he didn't.

"And did you agree?"

"I said I had to talk to you first."

If Ozai had had the ability, he would have given Zuko and approving gaze. As it were, it was almost physically impossible for him to do such a thing.

"Do you want to model for him?"

As if you really care about what I want, Zuko wanted to say. What Ozai really meant was, was he worth the trouble? And no matter what Zuko said, in the end, it was his father's call. His father had complete control over his life, and this was why he would never see beyond the mask he had imposed upon himself.

Zuko picked his words carefully, only opening his mouth when he was sure his words were perfect.

"I think it might be a good idea to…branch out." he said slowly. "Just in case any one job falls through there is always a back up in the art world."

His father stared at him for a long, long moment, and Zuko was very proud he didn't start trembling. Instead he held his gaze to the best of his ability before his father nodded and slid the phone number back over to him. He took it, enclosing it in his palm, and he was surprised at how readily he snatched it. Almost possessive, as if it were some kind of grounding he could hold onto. But there was no such thing for him.

At that point Azula reentered the room.

It would be nighttime when Zuko finally got around to calling Aang. He was laying on his bed, Kibou curled up on his chest, plugging the numbers into his cell phone, staring at the brightly lit screen with dull eyes.

Was he just fulfilling another one of his father's goals? Was he about to fall further? There was further to FALL? Zuko didn't know the answers, didn't want to. He didn't know what he wanted anymore, but he knew that whatever it was, something was telling him it started with pressing send.

So he did.

"_Hey this is Aang Kazekama, I can't come to the phone right now, I'm busy doing whatever. Leave a message if you're worth the time."_

Zuko bit his lip as the automated voice came on and told him to leave a message after the beep. There was a shrill beep in his ear and a click, and he knew he needed to start talking. He opened his mouth, and before he could even try to stop himself, words were spilling forth.

"This is Zuko Hihoshi, calling about modeling for you. I got the go ahead, so just call me so we can discuss dates and times."

He listed off his number to the voice machine before slowly letting his phone snap shut. The piece of machinery dropped to the pillow beside his head as his hands fell against the mattress. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes sightless. What had he just done?

Zuko didn't know, but something told him it was going to be another one of those things that he might regret.


	6. Hey Waiter There's Blood in my Soup

**A/N:** You know I think I'm about to murder my brain. It went on strike again. =_= But here's chapter five again, with a shout out to my favorite anonymous reviewer on LJ (ignore this if you aren't them) DON'T STOP COMMENTING I LOVE YOUR COMMENTS! 8DDD THEY MAKE ME HAPPY!

Please review, it really makes me feel good to know that people like my work. I dedicate this chapter to _Lulunabo_ and I hope you feel better soon honey!

_.:Chapter Five:._

Hey Waiter There's Blood in my Soup

Zuko was awake and out of the house by eight, way earlier than either of the family members currently in the house woke. He had packed late at night, unable to sleep from a mix of excitement and apprehension. His bag was slung over his shoulder and he thanked whatever gods and goddesses were up there that he had finished all of his homework in school so there were no textbooks to bring. In all honesty, all Zuko needed to bring to his uncle's were clothing, everything else he had there already. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure why he didn't have clothes over there too.

The one thing he did bring from the house that he would need was a small inconspicuous looking black box with a cloth over it. To any passersby it wouldn't be anything interesting, but Zuko knew that inside lay his precious kitten, able to breathe and peek out any time she wanted. Kibou didn't jump out of the box and she never had, and he had been sure to put her favorite sweatshirt (one of his she had just latched onto) inside with her for her to sleep on.

Every now and then she would pick her head up and lift the cloth to look around, then drop back into the box to sleep more. Zuko couldn't help thinking it was downright adorable, though in all fairness, he thought that Kibou was just all around a cute kitten. Which she was but that's not exactly the point so moving on.

The trip to his uncle's home was longer than the trip to school, but Zuko didn't mind. There were plenty of good reasons for Iroh to live across town from his brother's family, first of all being the fact that Ozai hated his elder brother almost as much as he hated his son. Which as one may gather at this point, was saying quite a bit as Ozai could barely stand to look at Zuko. Though in all fairness, there was little love lost. Iroh wasn't too fond of his younger sibling either, another similarity between himself and his nephew.

Second of all, Iroh's teashop was set up just on the edge of the gourmet district, so it was still a touch in the residential area, making it available to all, but close enough to the cutting edge to be chic and high end. It was a nice combination that Zuko was pretty sure only his uncle could truly pull off without trying. That being said, Iroh lived above his teashop, so he always had easy access to the place he loved. It was a spacious apartment though, much bigger than most would expect, and technically he lived in the entire building. All three floors of it.

Those who said one couldn't get rich by owning a restaurant had not seen the success of the Jasmine Dragon. Enough said.

This was not the first time the teenage boy and his cat had made the trip across town on the bus together, and Kibou was used to everything from being squished right up against her master's chest to being placed comfortably in his lap. More than once Zuko had been crushed between one too many people and loudly snapped that there was in fact a living creature that was getting crushed besides him. The kitten effect was basically instantaneous. He'd even been offered a seat a couple of times.

Today, due to the early hour coupled with the fact that it was Saturday morning, the bus was blissfully empty. This left Zuko to plop down in the front of the bus and drop his bag on the seat next to him, placing Kibou atop it. The kitten crawled out of her box of her own volition, padding into his lap and curling herself up there quite comfortably, purring. Zuko's hand descended down to scratch her ears absentmindedly as he stared out the window.

He was pretty much half asleep, having skipped breakfast to get out of the house early and really not slept the night before. He'd showered at four in the morning and dressed at five, packed at six and left by eight, only sticking around the extra hour to double check his homework and let his cell phone fully charge.

Zuko dozed off somewhere around eleven minutes into the bus ride, hand protectively on top of Kibou's back. He was awoken some twenty minutes later however by the cries of a young girl, who woke Kibou first, who clawed his leg as she stretched, waking him. Zuko groaned softly as he sat up straight again, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the bangs covering the left side of his face to make sure they were in place.

"I'm so sorry." the girl's mother said, looking apologetic. "She didn't mean to wake you."

The little girl didn't stop crying though, wriggling, trying to get away from her worn out looking mother. Kibou cocked her head to the side inquisitively meowing at Zuko. For a moment, he deliberated about just going back to sleep (it was another half hour before he got where he was going) then sighed and gave in.

"Hey." he said softly to the girl, who sat across the aisle from him. "What's the matter?"

The girl sniffed then hiccupped, sobs pausing when she realized he was addressing her.

"I-I haff to go to the denift t-to get m-my toof remoofed…." she mumbled. "A-and my b-big bruffer said i-it was REALLY gunna hurt…"

Zuko frowned sympathetically as the girl sobbed again.

"Yeah, siblings can be pretty bad." he said gently. "But you shouldn't worry so much about getting a tooth removed, it's not that bad."

"How fould YOU know?"

Zuko smiled and tapped his jaw.

"I had to get two teeth removed at once so my molars could grow in. It's not as bad as people try to make it seem, I promise. Just trust the dentist, he's not trying to hurt you."

Kibou meowed, stepping up onto the armrest and leaning over the aisle to rub against the girl's knee comfortingly. The little girl's eyes immediately went to the cat and she giggled, rubbing her eyes.

"Is she your's?"

"Yup. That's my Kibou." he lightly nudged his cat's rear, urging her up onto the armrest. "You can hold her till your stop if you'd like."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

The girl giggled happily as Kibou crawled into her lap and curled up on her back, being as cute as possible to distract the young girl. Her mother looked at Zuko in a mix of thankfulness and surprise, no doubt used to scorn for her crying child as opposed to kindness. Zuko just smiled and shrugged, leaning back in his seat and staring out the window again.

His stop came before the little girl's it turned out, and he let her put Kibou back into her box for him.

"Fanks for letting me play wif your cat mistah." the girl said, smiling brightly at him.

Zuko nodded his head and Kibou mewed happily before ducking back under her cloth to snuggle into his sweatshirt.

The walk from the bus stop to the Jasmine Dragon went quickly as it always did and Zuko found himself pulling out his ring of keys and letting himself in just minutes after getting off of the bus.

"Uncle!" he called out to the seemingly empty teashop. "I'm home!"

"About damn time!" Jin apparently was already here.

She appeared from behind the staircase, carrying a box of what Zuko could guess to either be tea leaves or spices, looking thoroughly chagrined at him. Her hair was pulled up in a bun and she was wearing a long skirt the she actually made look good. She glared at him for all of five seconds before dropping the act and smiling at him.

"Your uncle's upstairs setting the table, party's gonna be hear at eleven."

Zuko nodded and darted upstairs, ducking through the beads that covered the doorway to the upper level.

"Ah, Zuko!"

Zuko's face split into a grin as he uncle turned around and opened his arms.

"Welcome home."

For the first time all week Zuko's heart lifted and it felt like a huge weight had just disappeared from overtop him. He stepped into his uncle's hug willingly and with a happy sigh, hugging back with one arm as Kibou jumped out of her box. The kitten mewed, pawing at Iroh's leg and he chuckled.

"And welcome home to you too Ms. Kibou."

Kibou purred as his uncle leaned over to scratch the top of her head affectionately. She certainly didn't understand why her master didn't live with THIS family member, but she supposed it was another one of those human things she'd just never understand fully.

Iroh turned back to look at Zuko, looking him over carefully. When he sighted no new injuries or apparent discomforts, he relaxed visibly. Zuko had text him after dinner that his father was home, just so Iroh would be prepared for whatever condition Zuko happened to be in the next day. As it so happened, he was a lot better than he could have been.

"Alright Zuko." he said in a relatively relieved sounding tone. "Go put your things upstairs, then come down and help us get ready. Lot's to do!"

Zuko nodded, clicking his tongue at Kibou before darting upstairs.

It would be about three hours later that would find Zuko straightening his uniform, dressier than the others as he was currently doubling as a host. The black slacks and green dress shirt suited him well, as did the darker green tie and white apron about his hips. Though, in all fairness, most anything looked good on Zuko. Hence his success as a model.

As he slipped out of the kitchen and through the semi-full café area, he thanked his spirits that this was a regular of theirs and not some new rich person. That meant he didn't need to be quite as stiff. Even with his mask on, being stiff and formal was annoying at best.

Zuko opened the door and bowed with a small smile.

"Welcome sirs, please, follow me." he said in a calm, quiet voice.

"See?" said the regular. "Even greeted at the door by a polite, handsome young man. This place is truly the best."

His guests seemed to agree, nodding their heads as the women on their arms eyed Zuko a bit like hungry vultures. Zuko smiled kindly, thanking everything for his mask, and watched them blush slightly. It was a good thing he had no romantic interests in….well, he wouldn't say not in women, because that would mean he knew his sexuality. Which he didn't because no one of either gender had ever caught his eye.

He stood aside, welcoming the guests into the teashop with another small bow, holding the door open for them. He knew the kitchen staff was probably watching him from behind the door. They seemed to find his "welcoming" attitude hilarious, and he didn't entirely blame them. He wasn't welcoming by nature as one can, by now, tell.

Zuko led the patrons up the stairs to their private room where he handed them all menus and bowed his way from the room again. He darted back down the stairs to serve a nice family of four their meal, then made his way back into the kitchen to help his uncle making a batch of their most popular tea, which was always on hand. At the end of ten minutes she went back upstairs and took their guest's orders, quietly scribbling down what they wanted then bowing himself from the room pretended not to see the women staring at him as he left, for the sakes of their companions. It was one of the many things he really hated about being considered "good looking". He didn't mean to attract people, specifically people already in a relationship, he just….did. And in his defense, they approached him. He never approached any of them.

Zuko was just stepping onto the first floor when he felt a pair of eyes on the back of his neck and suppressed a shiver. He stopped himself from whipping around and looking frantically for the source of the disturbance. Instead, he slowly turned, casually looking around the floor, and that's when he caught sight of him. For a second he just blinked and stared, until it really came into focus for him that yes. Aang Kazekama was sitting at a table by the door, wearing a pair of orange headphones and bobbing his head along to the beat.

Zuko wanted to sneak away while he had the chance, but at that moment Aang turned and caught his eyes. His eyes lit up at the sight of the teen model and he grinned that grin that made Zuko want to run the other way. In fact the familiar feeling of wanting to flee, which he now associated with Aang Kazekama, was back.

He wondered if it would be okay to chance it and pretend he hadn't seen the artist and just leave to the kitchens, but knew that at this point it was impossible. Besides, he was technically his new employer…

Letting out a breathy sigh, Zuko slipped around various tables to reach Aang's, pausing beside it quietly.

"Hey, I was hoping to see you!" Aang said in his chirpy voice, sliding the headphones from his ears to hang around his neck. "I'm sorry for not picking up yesterday, one of my classes ran super late. I was gonna call you back, but I really like your uncle's tea, so I thought I'd just see if you were here and tell you in person!"

Zuko nodded, remaining silent. He had no idea why, but it suddenly felt a lot like he was boxed in. Closed off with no way to escape, and quite frankly it rather terrified him. Not that it showed past his mask, if it had he would have run from the room. But it was just the FEELING of entrapment that was getting to him, making it hard for him to stand here and not turn and leave.

He worked for Aang now. He had to be used to being around this enigma of a person who claimed not to be his enemy. Yet for whatever reason, Aang made him feel like something wrong, something was off, something he was used to had changed. That somehow some part of his meticulous routine and the mask he wore was being pulled away like a scab. He hoped it was just a feeling, because he did not want Aang Kazekama to see underneath that mask.

He wasn't entirely sure why though.

"I'm in the middle of something right now," Zuko was shocked to suddenly find himself talking. When had he opened his mouth…? "But I can take your order and come back if someone hasn't already…"

Zuko wanted to curse himself at that moment. Why was he willingly volunteering to come back? Didn't he want to be as far as possible from this boy? He DID! …Didn't he?

"Yeah, sure, I understand." Aang said with a wave of his hand. "You're at work, no big deal, I can wait."

Zuko nodded and pulled out his order pad, flipping to the next page after the orders he'd just taken to write down Aang's. Once that was done, he nodded to the other male once before darting across the floor to the kitchens. And had the kitchens been more empty, he would have collapsed back against the door and not moved for a while, but instead he handed Aang's order off and went to his uncle to make the food for the party upstairs.

Iroh greeted him with a smile and a batch of bean paste to stir. It was one of the things the man ordered every time he was here, and therefore was an anticipated dish. Iroh read off the rest of the order to an assistant who dashed off to get what the uncle-nephew pair would need. While Zuko stirred the paste, simultaneously using his other hand to get out various pots and pans, Iroh laid out their tools for cooking.

They cooked and prepared food for several long minutes in silence. The bean paste left the stove and instead went to be chilled, and was replaced by a steamer with dumplings in it and a pair of pans, one with noodles being fried and the other vegetables being sautéed. The rice cooker was filled and turned on and pretty soon their corner of the kitchens was smelling more heavenly than the rest.

It was a sight to see, Iroh and Zuko cooking together. They didn't need to speak, handing off tools and foods, grabbing spices for dishes and plates for others, sampling periodically and cursing when something went wrong. It was a lot like they were one unit who just happened to be two people. This, Zuko thought in retrospect, was probably where a lot of the rumors that Iroh could read minds came from.

Half an hour went by like this, and Zuko managed to clear out his head a little so that "oh god Aang Kazekama is here here here here!" wasn't the first thing that came to mind.

"You seem a little preoccupied nephew." Iroh said out of the blue, expertly flipping a fish cake in his skillet. "Is there something wrong?"

"Aang Kazekama is here."

…Or maybe his head wasn't quite as clear as he had thought. He often got lack of thought and clearing of head mixed up.

"Aaah…The young man you will be modeling for?"

Zuko nodded his head, biting the inside of his cheek out of habit.

They fell silent again, quietly cooking the large meal that had been ordered. Zuko knew Aang's order had long since been taken out by another server, leaving him to cook alone with his uncle in their corner of the kitchen. He was thankful for this, because that meant he didn't have to deal with another chat with the tattooed male. His mind was in enough chaos what with his father's visit the night before without Aang coming in and mucking everything up more.

However, his uncle was far more observant sometimes than Zuko gave him credit for. That was to say that when most looked at Zuko and saw a perfectly stable, albeit rather subdued young man, Iroh could see right through him. His uncle had a bad habit of knowing exactly what Zuko was thinking, exactly when he was thinking it.

This time would be apparently no different.

"What is modeling to you, Zuko?"

For a moment, Zuko's blood ran cold and he froze in the middle of chopping a Japanese radish. He was in no doubt that Iroh had caught this momentary pause, but went back to chopping anyway, if only out of habit.

He remained silent for a long time, honestly trying to collect his scattered thoughts to answer his uncle's question.

"It…was meant to be an escape." he murmured. "But now…it's just another cage. It means nothing to me."

Iroh made no sign of agreement or disagreement, and they finished cooking in easy silence. Zuko stacked plates on his arms as a few other servers dashed out with the beginning courses. This left the kitchen moderately empty and the back portion of it completely 's mind was elsewhere, wondering if Kibou was okay upstairs in the apartment, absentmindedly balancing the dishes so they wouldn't fall. He did this expertly as he'd been doing for years, not even missing a step as one plate nearly fell and he caught it without dropping the other two. He was very grateful that what his uncle said next also did not cause any dropping dishes.

"Nephew?"

"Yes Uncle?" he said, pausing as he turned for the door.

"Modeling is nothing to you, correct?"

"Absolutely nothing."

Iroh was giving him that look that meant he was looking way past Zuko's eyes and into his soul. Zuko was used to these looks and while they unnerved other people, he was unaffected.

"Then why does modeling for Aang make you lose your cool so much?"

Zuko hoped his uncle would understand when he turned around and fled.

Zuko served their guests with a small smile, speaking only when spoken to and remaining silent otherwise. Once everything was on the table he stood back and listed off what had been served and quietly asked it that was all or if they wanted anything else. The regular looked smug as the newcomers all wore flabbergasted expressions. Zuko was rather used to this reaction, as he knew more about the culinary arts than any young man his age he could think of. He could list off dishes, ingredients, where said ingredients had come from and how long they'd been in their pantry.

It was one of the things he really prided himself in. Being able to do justice to his uncle's cuisine through words, which it completely deserved. He had also memorized a majority of Iroh's recipes, this was also good as he seemed to have no intention of writing them down. That meant that if Zuko ever want to cook something invented by his uncle when he wasn't around, he better remember how.

He left the guests on their own to eat their meal, rather pleased with the surprised and very happy looks after their first bites. Zuko always felt a bit better when someone enjoyed the food he and his uncle had made.

Upon reaching the first floor again, Zuko paused, glancing around to see Aang Kazekama still sitting there, no with a sketchbook out, drawing something. Part of him had been hopeful that the other would leave, but apparently not. Zuko sighed, squaring his shoulders and mentally gritting his teeth. Aang Kazekama did NOT make him lose his cool!

This time, Aang looked up before he arrived beside his table and quickly closed his sketchpad, moving it off the table into his lap. Zuko slid into the seat across from him, habitually tugging at his bangs to make sure they still covered that thing.

"Sorry." he said, voice soft as ever. "There was a big businessman to serve…"

"Not a problem." Aang responded almost instantly. "Don't feel obliged, I know you're on the clock."

Zuko shrugged one shoulder.

"My uncle owns the restaurant, he won't mind me taking a break…"

Aang grinned and Zuko swallowed dryly, hoping it wasn't too obvious. That feeling of wanting to get as far away from Aang Kazekama as humanly possible was back, and try as he might to ignore it, it was rather insistent. He didn't move though, listening wordlessly as the other teenager spoke to him. He was pretty sure five minutes went by where he was mentally battling with himself not to get up and flee, and while that would mean that he would totally lose the conversation with anyone else… For some unknown reason, that really only made things worse, he could remember every single word Aang Kazekama said.

"So, would after school on Wednesday be okay with you?" were the first words that truly registered from Aang's mouth.

"What time?" was Zuko's automatic reply.

"Around three-ish? Sorry, I've got an AP class last period which is like, the only class I can't skip."

While surprised to hear that he, like Zuko, was in AP classes, Zuko nodded.

"I have study hall last, I can just sit around until then."

"Great! Would you meet me in the art room? The teacher's given me permission to use that place whenever I want."

"Yeah sure."

Aang beamed.

Inside of Zuko, something as screaming and clawing at him, but at this point, he wasn't entirely sure whether it was urging him to stay, or to run away faster than he ever had before, and never try to look at this shining face ever again.

* * *

**A/N:**

*choke...wheeze* It's...done...

Ugh...that gave me hell all the way through...I don't even know what to say besides UUUUUGH...

More Aang next chapter, have no fear...finally going somewhere with this damned fic...**  
**


	7. ArtIsGod'sWayOfSayingWeAren'tGoodEnough

**A/N:** And then suddenly Bloody had her three favorite authors begging her for the next chapter and she is very confused as to why. DDD: And she wants her anonymous reviewer back.

Anywhom, dedicated once more to_ lulunabo _BECAUSE I LOVE YOU. And _cerise_otaku_ because apparently I'm awesome or something.

In other news; I'M (hackchokecoughsplutter) SICK.

_.:Chapter Six:._

Art is God's Way of Saying We Aren't Good Enough

Days passed like they always seemed to for Zuko, in a messed up mishmash of colors and sounds that made no sense looking back. His weekend with his uncle was lively and fun as it always was, and he went home feeling refreshed and a little more able to deal with his immediate family. Ozai only stayed until Monday and then left once more, to where, Zuko wasn't sure and didn't care.

Wednesday had dawned way too sunny for Zuko's tastes, and he wondered blandly why the sun was that much brighter during the coming cold months than in the summer. Zuko liked the heat, just not the sun. The sun was irritating and he burned too easily to really enjoy it.

The day progressed quickly, hopping from class to class without much thought. Jun snatched his writing notebook in English again and he only minutely complained before she threatened to dock him five points off the next test. He'd get a ninety-five that way, which would make him lose his mind. After all, Zuko was a perfectionist.

Study hall rolled around and Zuko had to try very hard no to just leave school premises. Part of him wanted to do it out of habit, another part of him wanted to do it to escape the imminent meeting with Aang Kazekama. In the end though, he dragged himself to the art room, entering just as the art teacher was leaving with a swift explanation of why he was there.

The art room was a lot larger than it needed to be, but that was because their school focused heavily on the arts. There were three windows on the wall opposite the door, and scattered tables and chairs just laying about. Each window was set into the wall so that there was a ledge, presumably to sit on or set up a prop. At the far end of the room there were tall cabinets, two for supplies and one for the student's work or things they needed to keep there.

There was also a set of huge filing cabinets, four drawers tall and five wide. Each art student who wanted a portfolio could keep it in one of the drawers, or buddy up with someone else. Aang no doubt had a file, and so did Zuko for that matter. His was full of mostly charcoal drawings and watercolors, which were the only two media he could really ever seem to work in.

Aang wasn't there yet, leaving Zuko to sit down at one of the tables by the window across from the door and wait. After a few minutes he pulled out the one assignment he hadn't gotten around to finishing so he had something to do that night, and decided he'd rather be bored later than bored right now. He was feeling nervous, and that was making him feel edgy, which was a bad combination that resulted in an outward display of jumpy and angry.

He finished the assignment slowly, taking his time and making himself reread the problems at least twice if he felt he might even minutely misunderstand it. He never really did, but it was a way to make the time pass. He even took the time to triple prove his work and quadruple check it once it was done. In the end, it still only took him a half hour to finish.

At the end of the half hour, he sighed and rested his head on his arms, which were crossed on the table. Had Aang Kazekama forgotten? He seemed the type to do something like that.

Then suddenly, quite out of the blue, the door opened and there he stood, dressed in baggy faded blue jeans and a white tee splattered with paint, panting slightly for breath. One of his converse was untied, and he had what Zuko could only call a portfolio tucked under one arm. He had two bags over the same shoulder, one a backpack, the other a tattered messenger bag with several random looking patches on it of various bands.

All Zuko could call him was "haphazard".

Aang laughed sheepishly, leaning against the door frame, catching his breath. It was sort of obvious he had run there, though from where, Zuko had no idea.

"Haa…Sorry I'm late." he said.

Zuko blinked. For a second he just had to stare at Aang. That was such a…a cliché, overrated, overused thing to say and yet… It sounded so sincere coming from him.

"…No problem." Zuko answered in his same soft voice. "I've waited for longer."

It was true. He'd sat around waiting for a photographer for four hours once. That had SO not been pleasant.

"Still, I'm really sorry." Aang said, pushing off the doorframe and entering the room. "Wish I coulda called ahead or something, but my teacher drone on FOREVER and I couldn't cause he was standing right next to me."

Aang dropped his stuff on top of the table closest to Zuko, which was still a good two yards away, but close enough to Zuko to want to lean backwards and away from the artist. Damn this urge to run every time he saw Aang Kazekama; DAMN it.

"We're both here now though." he said evenly. "So, let's get started shall we?"

Zuko nodded, waiting for instructions. It dawned on him he had no clue what kind of modeling Aang wanted him to do. Was it nude modeling (oh god he hoped not), posture, realism? What? He had no idea.

Aang opened the messenger bag, pulling out a ten by six sketch pad and a pencil that he checked for a tip and eraser, before deeming it worthy. He plopped himself down in the chair by his stuff, crossing his legs even though he wasn't sitting on the ground.

"Okay." he said. "You don't have to pose or anything, honestly, do whatever. Homework, walk around, rant about your day, I don't care. Just let me actually get a feel for your body, okay?"

Zuko really wished he'd used different words, but nodded anyway.

In the end, he just kept sitting there, staring out the window, letting himself mull in his own thoughts. The only other sound in the room than his breathing was Aang's pencil on the paper, scritch scratching down whatever he was seeing. Zuko wished he had Kibou there with him, that might make this a little less…whatever it was. Nerve wracking wasn't the word, neither was boring, he didn't quite know what to call it.

Awkward, maybe.

While Aang drew, Zuko's thoughts wandered to the other teen in the room with him. Aang Kazekama was one of the odder people he'd ever met, and that was saying something just looking at his family alone. He was nice enough, if a bit awkward around the edges, and he seemed kind enough. He radiated the kind of aura that just automatically drew people to him, if Zuko can to guess, and made him want to flee.

But at the same time, there was something very strange about him. Like every time he smiled he was smiling just enough to hide a smirk, and while he looked sweet on the outside… The best Zuko could do was compare him to an ocelot, or one of the other smaller, wild cats. He looked beautiful enough, and harmless enough, but in truth, he was more than able to rip you to pieces if he wanted to.

The thought of Aang Kazekama ripping anyone to pieces, literally or figuratively, was enough to make Zuko shivered worriedly in his mind. He'd rather not be present the day Aang got that angry.

Out of the blue, Aang sighed exasperatedly and Zuko turned to him in confusion. He found Aang kneading the bridge of his nose, pencil dangling limply from the other hand's fingers as it rested on his knee.

"Something wrong?" Zuko asked, then wondered why he'd asked at all.

"Well…yeah kinda." Aang admitted, raising his head to look at Zuko.

"What?"

"You're doing that…thing."

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

"What thing?"

"That thing you probably did while you were modeling for those magazines, that thing. The thing where you get all closed off and…dead-ish."

Zuko's mentality was telling him to get up and out of there as quick as he could. Unfortunately, his mind was just that, his mind, and right now, had no control over him whatsoever. Instead of admitting that Aang was seeing through every wall that fooled a normal person, he crossed his arms and said;

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you-" Aang stopped himself with a sigh.

His shoulders slumped and he seemed to take a moment to collect himself. After that moment, he picked himself up, grabbing another notebook from his bag and walking over to Zuko. The model sat up straight as the artist sat down, flipping through the pages of the sketchpad until he landed on the one he wanted. He flipped back the cover and laid both sketchbooks side by side, sliding them over to Zuko.

He sat back and crossed his arms.

"Tell me if you see a difference." he said calmly.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at him, but pulled the sketchbooks closer and took a look at what Aang was trying to show him.

To start off with, let's say this much, Zuko had not expected Aang to be a wonderful artist. And he had not expected him to really be all that smart either. He was wrong on both accounts.

Zuko found himself staring at practically exact replicas of himself in pencil on the paper in front of him. On the notebook Aang had been using today, he looked quite a lot like he did in his usual shots. Lighting just right, preened and perfect and flawless. In the other notebook… In the other were sketches of him in uniform as he worked in the teashop. Aang hadn't missed a single detail, right down to the proper length of his bangs.

In those he looked…alive. He looked like a normal person, perhaps a normal person with less emotion than you and me, but still… He had not seen himself in such a way for, well, for years. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once and he wasn't sure exactly which was more prominent. Part of him wanted to explain away the pictures, the other part of him knew that was futile at best.

"Why can't you be free like you were in the teashop?" Aang murmured, and it made Zuko's blood try to turn to ice in his veins. "Is it me? Do I make you nervous or something?"

Zuko wanted to snap "no". He wanted to deny every word coming out of Aang Kazekama's mouth. He wanted to slap the teen and leave, want to snarl that he didn't know anything. He wanted to do SOMETHING…

But he just couldn't.

Not while he was staring at himself, with that mask, those walls, so high up around him, only to be faced with himself with the same walls down. It was a sharp contrast, and a worrying one too. Was he really so different? Was he really so… DEPENDANT on the mask that it was just his go to nowadays? Better question, when had it not been his go to.

He felt the very cover he was talking about slipping as he thought about it, and wrenched it back up, fearfully clinging to the only protection from the outside world he had. He couldn't lose it. Not now, not here, not in front of…of HIM. He had to get a grip. Come on Zuko, this was just someone who happens to notice you're a lot happier waiting tables than modeling. So?

And he does NOT make you nervous.

Zuko swallowed, pushing the sketchpads back at Aang.

"I'll try to loosen up." he mumbled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aang beaming and tried his hardest to ignore it. So he made the artist smile, whatever.

Aang got up and went back to his chair, repositioning himself in it and crossing his legs. Zuko waiting for the sounds of pen on paper to actually even try to "loosen up" as he had put it. More like knocking down walls that had never come down around anyone but his uncle. But this was what his employer wanted. Zuko had to deliver.

He took a deep breath, trying to think of something that he lost himself in enough to let down his defenses. Cooking with his uncle, but that wasn't an option, playing with Kibou, also not an option, sadly, and…well, if he had something on his mind badly enough, writing.

Zuko worried his bottom lip for a moment then said;

"You said do anything right?"

"Yup." came the reply.

Zuko picked up his bag and set it in his lap, immediately finding his pencil case and writing notebook. He set them on the table and zipped his bag again, setting it down before opening his pencil case.

It felt like it was taking a million years to simply pull out a pencil and start writing. He never really wrote in front of anyone for this exact reason. He just couldn't risk some of his true face showing to the world at large.

Jun's class was safe though, everyone else was too busy working so she wouldn't bring in her whip again (she had one, and she'd brought it in once, Zuko had been amused). This meant Zuko was free to write without anyone bothering him, and Jun had been very careful to make sure he didn't sit near the trouble kids, so he could do just that. She said his talent was too important to her to just let get screwed up by some hormonal teenage idiots.

Zuko sighed softly as he flipped to the first clean page in the book and smoothed out the paper. He'd finished the short story that had been plaguing him for two weeks over lunch, and he was regretting it now, as it meant he was mostly idealess. He stared at the blank page for a good five minutes, pencil ticking back and forth like a pendulum in his hand.

Finally, he decided on just starting to write, like he always seemed to.

Pencil touched paper and the words started flowing like water. Zuko didn't focus for more than a second on even one of them, just long enough to spell it out, then move on. If he had been paying attention to himself, he would have noticed his whole posture change. His shoulders slumped and his whole body relaxed as he scribbled down word after word onto the page. His eyes became moderately glassy as they focused on the paper and his lips stopped forming a tight line.

He of course, was too immersed in his story to notice this, but Aang, he, was not. No Aang caught it all, and for a moment, it made his breath catch.

Zuko was one of those people that if you passed him in the street, you wouldn't look twice, Aang mused. He was rather ordinary on the outside, if a bit closed off, but otherwise an unremarkable person. But I you actually looked, you'd see someone breathtaking. Aang had seen Zuko that day in the school courtyard and knew he had to have him. He was beautiful for one thing, and intelligent, strong willed, even if it was hidden, and individual. He was the kind of person Aang adored finding the little loose stitching in and sewing up again and making it better.

Zuko wasn't like anyone Aang had met before though. He may have looked all these things on the outside, but Aang didn't need to be a mind reader to know what it was like for him on the inside. Perhaps everyone else around them was too damned blind to tell, but he could see how closed off the other teen was. He was scared, and alone, and not used to the presence of another person in his life.

It made Aang miserable to wonder about what had made such a person end up like this.

But when he pulled out the journal and started writing, he changed completely. Aang could see everything about him just shift. He seemed to get brighter, calmer, and there was the faintest beginnings of a smile on his lips.

Aang of course, went straight to work capturing this all with his pencil and paper. Who knew how long this spark of life was going to last in the model? He had to take advantage right now and steal away what he could into his drawings. Zuko may never open up like this to him again. If this was the only reference he was ever going to have for the real him, he wanted it to be good.

The two teenage boys just sat there, each working on their respective projects in a comfortable silence. It would of course, only be later that Zuko realized it truly was a comfortable silence and not the awkward one from earlier. Until then however, he was content to scribble down his thoughts as his image was captured in graphite.

The hours dragged on and on, moment after moment. The sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, but neither of the boys made any move to leave the room. Aang moved several times to sketch from new angles, but other than that, the room did not change once for almost four hours.

At somewhere around seven thirty in the evening, Zuko registered that someone was looking over his shoulder and looked up to see Aang leaning on the back of his chair, reading what he had written. It made him want to slam the book closed, but right now, not enough of his other face was around to make him do it.

"You're a wonderful writer." Aang murmured, eyes still scanning the page. "You make it all sound so real."

Zuko flushed at the compliment. Only Jun and Iroh (and Mai) had ever seen his writing before, so this was rather odd for him. But this whole evening was odd.

"Uh…Thanks." he mumbled at last, tucking a lock of hair behind his unscarred ear.

Aang pushed off the back of his chair and stood straight again. He walked back over to his bags, putting away his sketch pads and what pencils and other utensils he'd gotten out.

"We're done for today, you can go. I can drive you home if you want." he offered.

"I take the bus." Zuko said automatically, closing his journal and putting it away with his pencil.

"Ah, alright then."

They left the art room together, Aang shutting off the lights and locking the door behind him with a key from his keychain. They walked in silence, side by side, and Zuko wondered if his mask was taking a longer time than usual to rebuild itself or if it was just him. He hoped it was just him, because if it wasn't that would mean that Aang Kazekama did in fact have an abnormal effect on him.

As they departed school grounds, they split off in different directions. Aang towards the parking lot for his car, Zuko towards the bus stop. At the last moment, just before Zuko slipped into his see nothing hear nothing feel nothing mode, Aang called out to him.

"Oh, hey, Zuko!"

Zuko turned around to face him, giving him a curious look.

"I meant to ask earlier, but do you wanna come to the mall on Friday? Me and the gang, you met them at the teashop, we're heading out there to chill."

Zuko paused, honestly contemplating this offer. He tried to think of a relatively kind way to turn him firmly down, and decided on the fact that he didn't have a car, and the drive to the mall in the bus was long and rather tedious.

Then of course, as if reading his mind;

"Katara's driving everyone so we can pick you up."

…Damn. There went his excuse.

Zuko worried his bottom lip, grappling around for another excuse. When none came, he sighed.

"…Yeah. Sure. I'll text you my address." he said.

"Awesome! See you Friday!"

For reasons unknown to him, Zuko returned Aang's wave.


	8. Normality is Just

A/N: Okay, so, my brain can process TA again. (After many long bouts of pouting and not letting me within five inches of it.) If you weren't aware, I do all these themes between chapters (sometimes), so if you get bored waiting, go read some of those. I think they're rather good (sometimes).

Still givin' shout outs to _lulunabo_ because I love her and she's coming home! 8D Also, for some strange reason, with a single exception, all my writing friends are older than me. O_o

IN OTHER NEWS. I'M FIFTEEN AS OF THE 25th OF APRIL.

(Also; Writer's block is a bitch on crack.)

_.:Chapter Seven:._

Normality is Just Abnormality's Identity Crisis

Zuko didn't bother even trying to act like he wasn't waiting for the end of school on Friday. He passed the day by impatiently, only slowing down in his English class for Jun's sake before dashing around again. His last period ended and he bolted, not caring who he passed or who passed him, just getting the hell out of bus ride went by in what felt like hours and Zuko didn't think he'd ever been so glad to have reached his stop. Actually he didn't think he'd ever been glad to reach his stop period. He also hoped it wouldn't become a habit, because he really didn't take any sort of joy in the house he lived in and didn't want to start liking any part of it. No, not even the bus stop.

By the time he was back in the house, up the stairs, in his room and collapsed on his bed, only thirty minutes had passed since the end of school; a new record for him. But to Zuko, it felt like he'd just run a six hour marathon.

He was struck, not for the first time, by the wish that things didn't weigh on him so much at times. Simple things that were easily explained away or put to rest for anyone else, but tended to drag him down constantly. In this case, the simple agreement to join Aang Kazekama and his friends at the mall this evening. There had been a single thought running through his head consistently all day and it was rounding back to haunt him now.

*Am I seriously going to do this…?* he thought in the disbelieving tone he'd thought it in the first time.

It wasn't the action of going to the mall that was making his head spin. It was the whole, going to the mall with AANG KAZEKAMA and his FRIENDS that was making it very hard to comprehend his own actions.

Apart from the fact that Aang Kazekama still made him feel slightly queasy, his friends were… Well, they didn't make him want to curl up in a corner and hide his face from the world (if the first meeting was what he was going off of), however they weren't generally the kind of people he'd usually even speak to. In fact, Mai, was the only person he'd ever actually willingly speak to as far as other humans his age went. And maybe Ty Lee. Sometimes.

At any rate, he'd gotten himself into this and he didn't have much choice but to go with it. And considering he'd been agonizing it for the past two days, he figured he had to face the music. That, and Kibou was kneading her claws into him to tell him to get a move on.

"Alright, alright no need to scratch me." he muttered, gently pushing her off him. "I'll get ready…"

She purred and sat back on the bed, tail curling around her paws. He loved his cat, but sometimes he wondered if it was a product of being his pet, or just a generally smart animal that allowed her to pick up on…well….everything.

Zuko ran his hand through his hair as he pulled open his chest of drawers, inspecting the contents and sighing in irritation. And you know, he'd thought there was a reason he needed to do laundry… He looked dejectedly down at the obvious lack of clothes he thought fit to be worn in public by himself and rounded on his closet.

He hated the clothes in his closet. They drew way too much attention to him, made him stand out so much more. Mostly because well, unlike the rest of his plain, ordinary clothes that he hid under hoodies and occasionally baggy jeans, the clothes in his closet… Well, they were more geared towards showing off that despite how much he hid it, he was actually VERY good looking.

Zuko didn't like reminding the world he was good looking. Then people started picking around for the flaws.

Regardless, he opened his closet and looked at the clothes inside. Zuko just stood there for a long moment before sighing and deciding he had no choice but to condemn himself to countless stares.

At the very least, he could find clothes in here that weren't quite as attention grabbing at the others. The funny thing was, he actually liked quite a number of the clothes in his closet, he thought they were quite attractive. He just didn't like the looks he got when he wore them, which ranged from lusty to disgusted.

Zuko ran a hand through his hair again, sighing softly. He grabbed a pair of pants, which were unfortunately, form fitting, stared at them for a minute, before letting the last vestiges of resignation set in. He stripped down to his underwear, pulling on the pants and checking himself in his mirror. He grimaced as he was once more reminded that despite how toned he was, he still had hips and curves.

He loved his mother, he just wondered why her figure had to be passed down to Azula AND him.

Looking for a shirt was an agonizing ten minute process that made him wonder where half of the things in his closet had even come from and why he didn't remember them. Every shirt he picked up was either attention grabbing or too damned tight for its own good. He felt like a girl getting ready for a date, and that made him feel rather sick.

Kibou seemed almost amused as yet another shirt was thrown back into his closet. Zuko, lost in muttered curses about clothing, didn't hear the door open, but Kibou did. She leapt lightly up onto his pillows, closest to the corner, wary of the figure standing in the doorway.

"Going somewhere brother dearest?"

Zuko just about jumped out of his skin, rounding on his sister.

"What's it to you?" he snapped, surprised to hear actual annoyance in his voice.

Azula stepped into his room and Kibou backed up further on his bed. Zuko made no move to do anything at all, just standing there shirtless staring at his sister. Azula looked him up and down appraisingly and said;

"Well, I seriously doubt you're going on a date. So where to, what's the occasion? You never wear that stuff." she gestured to his closet.

Zuko scoffed and turned away.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Aang asked me to go with him and his friends to the mall today."

"And you're actually going?"

"Couldn't come up with an excuse not to."

Azula hummed her understanding, examining the clothes in his closet. He grumbled under his breath, chucking the shirt he'd been holding back into the closet and running hand through his hair for a third time. Why in THE HELL could he NOT find a normal looking shirt?

"Here."

Zuko looked up in surprise as something was shoved under his nose and managed to grab it before his sister dropped it. He held the article of clothing at arm's length, and found it to be a long sleeved black shirt with a hood on it. He hadn't even known he owned that shirt.

"…Thanks." he mumbled, tugging it on, before turning to look at himself in the mirror.

"I don't know what you're agonizing over." Azula drawled. "You look good in everything you know."

"Yeah that's the problem." he muttered in irritation, but nonetheless decided he liked the shirt enough to keep it on.

"Weirdo." Azula said, turning to leave. "I'd suggest those combat boots you never wear and a choker as well brother, just a suggestion."

She closed the door behind her as she left.

Zuko looked himself over, wishing he could come up with better additions to his current outfit and when he couldn't, sighed. It would probably help if he ever actually made an attempt to look good, but Azula was the one with the real fashion sense. So, without further mental complaint, he pulled out his old combat boots (again, where in the hell had he even gotten them?) and opened the top drawer of his dresser.

Perhaps most would call it girly, but yes as a matter of fact, he did have a drawer with jewelry in it. Zuko happened to be one of the males out there confident enough in his masculinity to wear bracelets and necklaces and earrings and whatnot. Mostly because he actually liked how they looked on him. In this case, he pulled out a simple black band of velvet that clipped in the back. Azula had given it to him when she decided chokers didn't suit her.

Once he'd pulled on the shoes and choker, he looked at himself, and reluctantly admitted he actually looked rather good like this. He just hoped not TOO good…

Zuko plucked at the sleeve of his shirt, wondering why it was so long (is covered the bottom half of his hands unless he pushed the sleeves up). Maybe it was a style or something, didn't matter, it still looked fine at any rate.

Last thing to do was brush out his hair and make sure his bangs continued covering his scar. Once sure, he nodded to himself with a soft breath. And now, all he had to do, was wait for Aang to-

At that very moment there was a shrill ringing sound and he turned to his cell phone, picking it up and flicking it open. There, sure enough, was the flashing name "Aang Kazekama" with "one new message". He opened the message and blanched.

'We're outside. :D -Aang'

"Shit." he hissed.

Zuko grabbed the closest bag (a gray shoulder bag that he wanted to complain vehemently was a purse but had given up eventually). He managed to throw his cell phone, wallet and notebook into the bag, knowing there had to already be at least one pen inside. He paused to kiss Kibou's nose before leaving the room, making sure he'd grabbed his keychain, and locking the door from the inside.

"Love you Kibou, be safe." he told her and got a happy meow in response.

Zuko dashed downstairs, straightening his hair one last time. He passed Azula as he went by the living room, screeching to a halt when she called out "hold it!".

She rose from the couch, walked over to him, looked him over with a frown, and ruffled his hair. Zuko squawked indignantly and she smacked his hand away before he could flatten his hair again.

"There, now at least you look a little less like you're going to a funeral."

"Shut it."

There were no goodbyes exchanged between them as he left the house, closing the door behind him. He glanced around and, upon spotting the car a house over, which was never there, made his way towards it. As he approached, the window on the passenger's side was rolled down and he was met by a grinning Aang.

"Hey there." he chirped, and Zuko nodded to him. "I woulda come up to the door but figured you'd rather I didn't. Hop in."

The door to the back was opened and Zuko did indeed get in, having already spotted the empty seat. He ended up between the door and the blind girl (whose name he'd forgotten), and buckled himself in quietly.

"Uh, quick introductions, that's Toph next to you, Sokka on her other side, Katara's driving, and I seriously hope you know who I am." Aang said with a grin. "Jellybean?"

Zuko raised an eyebrow, then shook his head no and Aang shrugged, popping a green bean into his mouth.

"Your loss."

"Your sweet tooth actually." Katara said, reaching over and into the bag of jellybeans as she pulled back onto the road. "With all the sweets you show up with I'm gonna get fat."

"I don't MAKE you eat them." Aang argued, eating a pair of red beans.

"Yeah well how do YOU stay so skinny." Toph asked, leaning over and snatching the bag altogether.

Aang made a disgruntled sound but obviously knew better than to try to take his candy back. Zuko just watched the exchange with minor interest, noting mentally down the dynamic between the friends.

They drove in moderate silence, though he was glad to find that it was anything but awkward. In the end, he took a small handful of jellybeans when Toph offered, more because she was being nice to him while she seemed to reign over everyone else in the car with an iron fist. Well, not really, but she seemed a lot tougher on them than she was being on Zuko at any rate.

Katara didn't turn on any music, much to his relief, as that generally just made things all that much more awkward. Like elevator music. Elevator music was invented by someone who had no concept of just how awkward a bad rendition of The Beatles "Love Me Do" can make things when you're standing in a four by three metal box with five other people. Zuko would know from experience.

Eventually voices must be heard however, when one is trapped in a car with four other people besides yourself, it is inevitable. It was Toph who spoke first, and she spoke in a teasing manner, but with an air of sincerity that had Zuko been drinking something, would have made him choke.

"So, you're modeling for Aang, huh? He gotcha posing for him nude?"

Zuko tried hard to pretend he hadn't just gone red in the cheeks and choked on air. (Luckily, unlike liquid, one cannot die from choking on air, unless they stop breathing.)

"Tooooooph!" Aang whined, and when Zuko glanced at him he saw a flush on the other boy's cheeks as well. "I TOLD you not to ask questions like that!"

"Oh, so, what, you are drawing him nude?"

"I AM NOT!"

Toph yelped as she was pelted with several jellybeans at once and snarled, leaping over Zuko to wrap her arms around Aang's neck. Aang squawked helplessly as she tightened her grip, flailing and trying to get her off.

"Hey! I am DRIVING here!" Katara snapped. "Could you two at least TRY to act your ages! NOW!"

"Apologize Twinkle toes!"

Aang gasped for breath and said;

"Never!"

"APOLOGIZE!"

"NEVA!"

Zuko calmly grabbed Toph's belt and tugged her back into her seat. The girl sat back without complaint, looking up at him with sightless eyes questioningly. He patted her knee and, just as Aang was rubbing his throat and about to thank him, leaned forward and gripped his ear. He dug his nails into the artist's ear and said in the same calm tone he always used;

"Apologize?"

"Ow!" Aang squeaked, batting at his hand without success. "Okay I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

Zuko looked to Toph, and seeing her grinning, deemed his work done. He let go of Aang's ear and the artist whimpered, holding it with a wince.

Toph on the other hand, had thrown her arms around Zuko's shoulders.

"I love this man." she proclaimed cheerfully.

Zuko tensed. He didn't know what had brought on the uncharacteristic actions of just two minutes ago, or why he wasn't currently spazzing at having another human touch him. It struck him, only as Toph let him go, that for a moment, just a moment, he'd let down his defenses. For a just a little while, he'd forgotten to be Zuko the high class model and just been…Zuko.

It was with some trepidation that he looked back at Toph again as she settled back in her seat. Her eyes met his, and just as he had feared, there was understanding in the glassy orbs. He hadn't said a word, yet she'd understood everything going through his head.

Toph just smiled softly and laid a hand on his knee, winking at him. Her hand left his knee and she sat back, kicking her legs up on the storage area between the two front seats. Zuko's heart was thundering and he tried desperately not to let it show that he was having an internal battle of wills. Zuko hadn't been out around people in so long, and he desperately wanted a chance to show his mask that not everyone was bad, but mask Zuko would hear nothing of it.

One too many times, one too many people, it reminded him, and then suddenly, the more open side of him was gone again. He could tell, out of the corner of his eye, that Toph noticed the difference. She made no motion or sound to show she'd seen any change, but he could see it. And for now, it would be their hoped it would stay that way.

The mall was packed when they arrived, not that Zuko had expected much different. It was after all, a Friday afternoon. Regardless, Katara managed to find a parking place and they all piled out of the car. Aang stretched the minute he was standing straight and Zuko took a moment to appreciate just how tall he was. He looked rather gangly from afar, but truthfully, he was just really tall and rather skinny looking.

It was a rather odd and random observation, one Zuko wouldn't usually expect himself to make. He didn't generally go into depth thinking of how people looked. Being that that was what he was most often judged on, he tended to ignore that part of people. But Aang, he was such a contrasting person, he demanded that kind of observation from pretty much anyone. (Or so Zuko deemed as people passed, eyes straying towards the tattooed male.)

His personality was so open, happy and just…nice, with no good reason but BECAUSE. Yet appearance wise, he might as well be the direct opposite. Tattoos, piercings, clothes that could really only be labeled as "punk" or dare he say "rocker"… And yet again, he always had that small gentle smile on his lips, that laughing sparkle in his eyes… Aang Kazekama was a walking contradiction.

Zuko wasn't sure if that bothered him or not. But then again, he wasn't sure if Aang Kazekama bothered him or not.

"So!" Toph chirped. "Where to first?"

Aang laughed and sent Toph a grin.

"Why bother, you're going to drag us off somewhere." he said in a tone that suggested this was nothing new.

"Right you are my good seeing eye humans! TO THE SLUSHIES!"

Zuko raised and eyebrow as the troupe made their way through the parking lot towards the mall. Sokka hung back to walk beside him, and Zuko was glad Aang hadn't. At the very least he was more comfortable around Katara's brother than around Aang. Which was weird, because he'd known Aang longer (if you could count their awkward meetings as knowing).

"Toph's got a rather large obsession over slushies." he explained. "Specifically green apple ones."

Zuko's eyebrow rose further.

"Aren't those really sour?"

"Yeah I don't get how she likes them either."

Zuko managed to avoid any fans that might have appeared by sticking closer to the group than he would have by instinct. He had been hanging back, but when he started hearing the hushed and excited whispers of teenage girls he quickened his pace. He figured it was probably the fact that three of the four other teens looked rather menacing on first glance that kept the fans back. And Sokka just looked like a bored skater.

The store at which Toph was determined to buy her precious slushie was surprisingly empty when she barged in. The rest followed her through the glass door, and Zuko took a look around. It looked quite a bit like an ice cream parlor to be honest, only with slushie machines instead of soft serve. The owner seemed to know Toph and was already filling the largest cup with the green icy drink.

"Same for you lot too?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah us too." Katara agreed.

"What about you kid?"

Zuko jolted, wishing suddenly that the lights in the store weren't so bright. It was easier for his dark clothes to blend in in dimmer lighting.

"Uh…"

Aang, using whatever magical powers God had given him, was suddenly by Zuko's side. He smiled pointing to the menu hanging from the ceiling.

"It may be a bit assuming to say, but you like tea, don't you?"

"…Yeah." Zuko agreed.

"There's an awesome green tea milkshake here. My treat."

"I can-"

"I insist."

Zuko was glad, for what felt like the umpteenth time, that it didn't show that he was now thoroughly flustered. Instead he just nodded and leaned back against one of the tables to await their orders.

When the various cold drinks were finished, each person took their own, save Zuko, who was handed his milkshake by a smiling Aang. He took the drink hesitantly and unlike the rest of the group, didn't try it right away. They bid farewell to the store owner and headed back into the throngs of people milling about the mall on a Friday afternoon.

No one was really in a hurry, least of all them, and so they just quietly trailed along through the mall, chatting and looking around. Zuko did eventually take a cautionary sip of the milkshake, and, much to his shock, found it actually was quite good. Note to self, inform Uncle Iroh of this creation's existence. They already had a few milk teas, and iced teas, on the menu, but no one had ever really combined the two. His uncle would surely be interested.

It was with some surprise that Zuko realized that suddenly an hour had passed, just walking and talking (more walking and listening for him) and not much else in the company of Aang Kazekama and his friends. Even more to his surprise, he found himself not feeling awkward like he'd assumed, but rather comfortable. Not really enjoying himself, but having a nice enough time just listening to the friendly banter and adding to the conversation every then and again when he saw fit.

They ambled about the mall for a while longer before Katara pointed to a shop at the end of the section they were walking through.

"See, told you it opened this month!" she said smugly to her brother and Aang cheered.

Zuko cocked his head to the side in confusion, still sipping on his considerably more melted (now that an hour had passed) milkshake. Katara caught the look and smiled at him, pointing more directly to the shop she was talking about.

"It's the new chocolate place. Supposedly it's very high class, and very expensive, but totally worth the money." she explained.

Zuko nodded, sipping up the last of his drink and throwing the empty cup into the nearest bin. Chocolate was something he was rather fond of, and as Katara walked purposefully in that direction, he decided, hell with it, might as well treat himself. He hadn't had very many sweets in quite a while and to be honest, he was rather missing them.

It probably helped that he had the kind of body that just perpetually did NOT put on any weight unless he quite literally just sat on the couch and didn't move and ate only junk food. As Zuko had never tried this, this was just an assumed situation.

The chocolate shop was quaint, and pleasantly homey on the inside. Not frilly and cute like some of the stores, obviously advertising to young girls, but well lit and decorated in soft colors. None of the fancy ribbons and black lacquer inside Godiva stores and the like, just pale oak tables and warm red walls. Zuko liked the shop instantly.

The group parted once they walked in, each going towards their own particular interest in sweets, Toph following Aang who apparently liked the same things as her. Zuko himself ended up by the truffles, but passed them by rather quickly, as every time he bought truffles Azula stole them all.

This landed him in front of a long table with boxes on top of it, each filled with packages of little round chocolates filled with different creams. As Azula didn't like dark chocolate, or mousse filled white chocolates, Zuko thought these were a safe enough bet. He didn't want to buy these chocolates, which seemed to be heading in the expensive-ish direction, only to have his sister eat them all.

He picked up a package of the dark chocolates, delighted to see they were filled with more dark chocolate, and read through the ingredients. It was a habit of his, seeing as he was often on the look out for new things for his uncle to make. As he did, he found his eyes straying to the white chocolates and bit the inside of his cheek.

These things really were kind of expensive, and he really didn't want to buy two packages, but he was stuck. White or dark chocolate? Oh why couldn't he be one of those people who only liked one kind of chocolate instead of secretly having a horrible sweet tooth?

"Hey."

Zuko almost jumped out of his skin, but turned his head to find Katara standing next to him. She smiled at him, pointing at the white chocolates.

"If you get the dark chocolates, I'll get the white ones and we can split them halfway." she offered.

Zuko blinked, letting his brain process for a moment. He really wasn't used to people just…genuinely being nice to him for no good reason. Nor was he used to girls not clinging to him and or ogling him unless they were close friends. Katara honestly just seemed to be being nice though.

He nodded.

"Okay, sure, why not…" he murmured and she smiled again.

After Sokka and Aang dragged Toph away from a box of walnut chocolates with cayenne pepper in them, they managed to pay and leave. Katara caught up with Zuko, cracking her package of chocolates open as she did. Zuko did the same and they traded half the pack each, much to Sokka's amusement.

"Does this mean you won't be stealing my chocolates anymore sis?" he joked and Katara scowled at him.

"You never eat them anyway."

"I do too!"

"You leave them sitting on the counter for a week and then complain when you finally notice they're gone two weeks later!"

The squabbling siblings were tuned out when Aang caught up to Zuko as well.

"So you like dark chocolate?" he asked.

Zuko nodded, unwrapping a chocolate and popping it into his mouth. It was a little unnerving to feel Zuko's eyes still on him as he did, but tried to ignore it. He was meant to be enjoying a bit of downtime here, but this whole…other people around him who didn't want to use him thing was a bit new. He couldn't help being a little tense.

"You know, you seem like the type to like sweets." Aang commented airily.

Zuko was about to ask what gave him the impression, when he found the white chocolate he'd just unwrapped swiped from his hand. He very narrowly avoided squawking in indignation as he watched the white bauble of sweetness disappear into Aang's mouth. The artist smiled cheekily. For his trouble, he got smacked over the back of the head before Zuko could really think about what he was doing.

Inwardly, Zuko freaked out when he realized what he'd just done, only to calm when Aang started laughing, hand on the back of his head.

"I guess I sorta deserved that!" he said, still laughing.

They found themselves walking aimlessly around the mall again, chatting idly and exchanging sweets. Zuko ended up stealing two of Aang's orange chocolate squares, much to the artist's displeasure, but he just ignored him and ate them anyway. Toph had laughed her ass off at Aang's pouting once his chocolates had disappeared into his model's stomach for a full five minutes.

Somehow they ended up back on the first floor again, and were stopped by a crowd of people squealing over a display in a window. Interested, they walked over, only to be caught by the sight of a herd of golden retriever puppies, hopping around and flopping over one another, pawing at the window and yipping. Zuko, animal lover that he was, couldn't look away, and was glad he wasn't the only one in the group transfixed. Toph in fact, seemed to be the only one who wasn't caught by the cuteness, but that was most likely because she was blind.

Around the six minute mark of just staring, Sokka yelled and they spun around to see what he was looking at. It turned out to be a poster for the new Amnesia: The Dark Descent expansion that would be out in a month or two.

"I've gotta preoder this!" he said in an almost hysterical manner, and Katara rolled her eyes.

"Why, so you can cry yourself to sleep again? Seriously, you didn't stop screaming for days until you finished the damn game. And then a week after that."

"That's the point sister dearest, it's meant to scare the pants off of manly men like myself! ….I MUST HAVE IT!"

Katara just shook her head.

"I dunno…" Aang said, biting a corner off of the chocolate bar he'd just opened (which was filled with hazelnut cream. "Supposedly the puzzles are really tricky and if you don't do it right the game ends entirely; no saving."

"It's not that bad." Zuko commented. "It's more you really have to listen to what she's saying and use logic, and obviously play through the whole way. It kind of helps to remember what happened in the original game though."

Zuko blinked when he realized that all eyes in the group were on him.

"…What?"

"You play video games?" Sokka said in a mystified tone.

"…Yeah."

"You play Amnesia?"

"I played it through three times for fun…"

"You've played Justine?"

"I did some modeling for a Fictional Games production so they gave me the expansion early…."

Sokka looked like he either wanted to grovel at Zuko's feet or punch him. Katara was giving her brother a weird look, Toph looked indifferent, and Aang looked mildly impressed. Zuko didn't get it. So he posed in front of a camera for a few hours, went home, had a mini-emotional breakdown, and got a free video game out of it? So?

"…I can lend it to you, if you want…I almost got to the end but I made a stupid mistake, and I haven't had the time to play it through lately…"

Suddenly Sokka looked like he might kiss him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll bring it to school Monday…"

"You're a saint!"

Zuko shrugged it off, though inside he was blushing and mumbling he most certainly WAS NOT… But his mask kept that inside him and wouldn't let it show. It was too bad too, because Aang's smile would have just gotten wider had he seen that display of… humanness, from the usually stoic model.

It wasn't that he thought Zuko was stuck up, or prissy, or anything like that. It was just that he seemed very…cut off. Like a very good movie that just suddenly ended without tying up the loose ends, or a door that was slammed closed in the middle of a hallway. Something was missing, end every time he got a little peek at it, it made him want to see more.

Today, he'd gotten the best results long term, though really, he'd seen the most of what he might call the 'true Zuko', that day while they were working together. When Zuko became lost in his writing, he seemed to drop off the face of the earth. Into another plane entirely where he wasn't so… Aang didn't want to say 'scared of the world', but not concerned about keeping up the façade he most often had.

Aang wondered how to make that more permanent, as Sokka swung an arm around Zuko's shoulders, chattering excitedly about video games, and Zuko responded with interest.

One way or another, after traipsing around the mall for another two hours, Katara noted that it was dark out and they had to be getting back if they wanted Zuko to get home before ten. Zuko wanted to say it really didn't matter and he'd really rather stay out with them, but something clogged his throat, and he just nodded mutely. When he realized that he couldn't even manage to say he wanted to spend more time with people he was becoming acquainted with, he felt quite a bit like having one of his worse releases, but held it in. Enough time to hate the way he was later.

They piled back into the car, and Zuko somehow ended up front with Katara this time, Aang and Sokka squabbling about whether Malik or Ezio were better. (Personally, Zuko preferred Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood and would therefore have to go with Ezio.)

The drive towards Zuko's home wasn't as animated as the one to the mall, and seemed a bit dismal in his opinion. That could have just been him though. He hadn't had actual…fun, with other people outside his tightest circle in…how long? Far longer than should have been allowed by human standards. They were after all supposedly "social" creatures or whatever.

They were about halfway there, when Zuko's phone buzzed, making him jolt. He'd been staring out the window at the city lights and hadn't been expecting the vibration against his thigh at all, and in the end, acted a bit like a scared cat.

He fumbled his cell phone from within his pocket, flipping it open to see what had caused it to buzz. Apparently, his sister had text him, for whatever reason. This made him rather nervous, as Azula and he tended to keep a mutual belief that they just SHOULDN'T contact one another ever.

Opening the text, he felt an uncanny amount of relief as he read her words.

'Party at our place. Cat's in your room and I locked the door and windows so no one can get in.' -Azula

Which, loosely translated, meant, he had no home for the night.

"Uhm…Could you maybe change where you're taking me?" he murmured.

Katara gave him a questioning look.

"How come?"

"Azula's having a party…which means I'm not allowed home, so…"

To his surprise, Toph cheered.

"Sweet! That means I can abduct you after all!"

"Uhm…what?" he asked in confusion.

Aang laughed softly, and Zuko avoided eye contact entirely.

"I guess you really were out of it, huh?" he said. "Toph's having us all stay over at her place tonight. Her parent's are sort of rich, so her house is huge. You can stay with us, if you want."

Zuko felt his throat clog again. Half of him wanted to politely say no and that he really wanted to take the time with his uncle, though thank you for the offer, and the other half of him wanted to scream no and get out of the car right then. Neither ended up happening however, when Toph pouted.

"Pleaaaaase? Come on, I have the new Mortal Kombat…"

More than the interest in the video game, it was the pouting that got to him. Or so Zuko convinced himself because really, what else could it be, let's be honest. It most certainly wasn't Aang Kazekama's pensive eyes fixed almost knowingly on him in the rearview mirror, not at all. At any rate, Zuko found himself nodding mutely to the offer.

Toph cheered again, Aang smiled, and Zuko found himself wanting to melt into his seat.

They ended up back at Toph's house around nine, and indeed, her wealth showed. Zuko would have gaped, had his father's house (the "family house") not been bigger than the mansion he was standing in front of.

Toph insisted they go around back, and Zuko assumed they were avoiding her parents, something he understood well enough. He didn't question it, instead following the whole group to a back door that led down into what Zuko assumed was a basement of some sort. She descended the stairs first, and Zuko would have gone last had Aang not tugged on his sleeve and pulled him after himself. As they waked down the stairs, Toph flicked on the lights and Zuko blinked the little blotches of light from his eyes.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, he was only half surprised to see a den like area, complete with carpeted floor, entertainment system and several couches, beanbags and armchairs. Looks like he wasn't the only one who liked avoiding their closest family members whenever possible…

Somehow, they ended up in a miniature Mortal Kombat championship, which Zuko politely declined joining in with. When Sokka insisted on a round, just for kicks, Zuko accepted, and promptly beat the living crap out of him. Sokka sort of gaped at the two characters on the screen as Zuko beat him to fatality for a third time in a row.

"How in the…?"

"Long hours of boredom." Zuko replied.

And long hours of trying to lose himself in some kind of repetitive action that wouldn't end up harming him if he did it for too long. But, well, same difference, right?

After that another two hours of video games went by, and somehow he ended up helping Sokka beat Toph, who, for someone who was blind, was very good at video games. Had he been paying attention to the world around him instead of focusing on Toph and Sokka's rematch, he would have noticed Aang smiling softly at him.

Eventually, they all started to crash, and Toph told him to grab a spot and she'd get the blankets (as there were already pillows everywhere). Katara had already curled up on an armchair, and Sokka seemed content to flop out over three beanbags, while Aang had laid himself out languidly on one of two couches. They were pressed into the corner, and it was really more one couch that was in the shape of an L, and Aang alone took up half of it.

Zuko, too tired to listen to the part of him screaming that the possibility of actual human contact was terrifying, curled himself up on the other half of the couch. When thrown a blanket, he caught it and pulled it over himself, snuggling down against the soft suede. He didn't feel quite right, not having Kibou with him and not being at his uncle's, but he didn't feel as bad as he thought he would have normally.

Zuko's eyes fluttered shut slowly, and the last thing he heard was Aang Kazekama murmur;

"Sweet dreams Zuko…"

* * *

**A/N: **AHAHHAHHAHAH! I DID IT! HAHA! I DID IT! 8D IS ANYONE PROUD OF ME?

Noooope.

=_=

Okay yeah excruciatingly long wait, I know, I'm sorry, I have no idea what happened, the world just keeps catching up to me. I mean seriously, it's like the whole world just suddenly popped out of nowhere and said HERE HAVE SOME PROBLEMS IN FACT HAVE A WHOLE SHIT TON.

So yeah.

Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, but I must get several requests and some other things out of the way first. After that I'll be free to get typing.

And before ANYONE doubts me, I have up to chapter 11 all planned out and guess what? THIS MARKS THE BEGINNING OF THE TRUE PLOT BITCHES.

Well part of it, anyway. _

Anywho, peace off, bless your faces, I almost put a Tobuscus reference during them talking about Amnesia but resisted.


	9. Got Your Number in a Bathroom Stall

**A/N:** Oh my god, is that…? THE PLOT! 8D Well part of it anyway. =-= Geez, I didn't realize how much set up I needed to get around to the actual plot. Well at least you get some fluff, right?

ALSO WE NOW HAVE A _**COVER! **_http:/ blood-inthe-rain . deviantart . com /favourites /42232113# /d3hird3 (Minus the spaces, obviously~)

And again, sorry for the wait, some very very very serious stuff has been going on in my life. I haven't had the time to write.

_.:Chapter Eight:._

Got Your Number in a Bathroom Stall

When Zuko first awoke on the morning of Saturday the something or otherth of something or other month (who knows, who cares?), he had absolutely no idea where he was. There was no Kibou by his head, nor on his chest, and he wasn't curled under the blankets like they could protect him from the world. In fact, he wasn't even on his bed as far as he could tell. No, that was definitely suede and a wool blanket not cotton sheets and a down comforter.

So, Zuko had to puzzle, if he wasn't in his bed…Where exactly was he?

It took him a moment, in his half asleep and rather befuddled state, to remember that he'd (for the first time since grade school) slept over at another person's house. Again, it took him several moments to figure out whose house he was in, and upon recalling the name 'Toph', relaxed. As long as he wasn't somewhere related to either his sister or his father he could most likely relax at least a little bit.

Slowly, he sat up, pushing the blanket off his legs and turning his body so he was sitting up with his feet on the ground. He rubbed his hands across his face, then froze when he realized that THAT THING was in plain sight.

Zuko's eye's grew wide, and he frantically tried to remember how he'd slept. He recalled it was on his side, and a moment later, that his left side had been against the couch. He calmed somewhat, content with the knowledge that no one could have see THAT, meticulously combing his bangs back into place.

Glancing around, Zuko noticed Sokka still sprawled out over the beanbags asleep, and Toph as well. He looked behind him, and found the other section of the couch void of one artist. Katara too, was missing.

This left Zuko in a relatively awkward position, as he'd never been to Toph's house before and, more to the point; hadn't been over to another person's house for the night (not including his uncle) since he was very young. He had more manners than to just up and leave, even if his brain was saying that was the best idea at this point. This left just sitting there waiting for either Katara or Aang to show up again, or for Toph to wake up.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait quite as long as he'd feared, as a door across the room opened (or that's what it sounded like). Upon turning his head he saw a flight of stairs upwards, though these were not the ones used to enter the basement the night before, instead, they seemed to be leading to the house itself.

Katara and Aang appeared, each carrying a tray, Katara's laden with food, Aang's with drinks, chatting as they walked down the stairs. Aang spotted Zuko sitting up and beamed at him.

"Morning Zuko, sleep well?" he asked in his usual happy sounding voice.

Zuko nodded mutely.

"Not a morning talker?" he offered over his shoulder as he walked over to the coffee table in front of the TV.

Zuko shook his head and Aang laughed, not in an amused sort of way, just happy. It occurred to Zuko that Aang was happy…a lot. And it could get rather unnerving sometimes. Not because being happy was bad, just because he himself rarely was, Zuko did not begrudge others who were. Ty Lee for example, she was constantly chipper.

But there was something about Aang's happiness, something unnerving, at least for him. It was the kind of happiness perpetually projected onto others. While Ty Lee's happiness was often obnoxious and occasionally caused a smile or two, Aang's was infectious. Those around him couldn't seem to stop feeling the same, and Zuko could feel it slowly seeping into even him. This, more than anything, scared him half to death.

He wasn't even spending that much time with Aang Kazekama…

Zuko was startled from his thoughts by a loud shriek, which, upon turning, was apparently from Sokka, who was now sprawled on the ground. His shriek (it couldn't even be qualified as a yell) was followed by an indignant squawk from Toph.

"Alright alright I'm up!" she huffed at Aang, who had been tugging her ears. "Lemme go!"

Aang did as asked, sauntering over to the current breakfast table with a smirk on his face. Sokka wasn't so lucky as he seemed to have fallen asleep again and Katara had to kick him to make him move….three times.

Eventually, everyone was at least mostly up and Zuko found a place around the low glass table to eat. Aang served drinks and Zuko was glad he managed to nab a fresh orange juice, before Katara began serving pancakes. When asked who had cooked, she said Aang had done half and she'd done the other.

To his surprise, Toph cheered, diving from her plate and starting to eat like she was starving. Zuko asked for only two pancakes, and took his time eating, like Aang was, while the others ate at their own paces. For Sokka and Toph that was exceedingly fast and relatively sloppy.

He was surprised, again, when he found the pancakes not half bad, and mentally filed away this piece of information about the pair who were currently chatting idly. He wondered how much bigger the mental files on them would get, and half of him hoped it would all stop there. The other half knew that was stupid to hope such a thing at all.

The next half an hour passed in relative silence, as no matter how awake anyone was, it was early, and their brains weren't functioning enough to talk about anything. Not that Zuko wanted to; it made him feel a lot less awkward in the scheme of things when he wasn't the only one not talking.

When breakfast was finished the plates were piled in the center of the table, and before Zuko could offer to wash them, Toph said something about a maid. Zuko had entirely forgotten that Toph was apparently rich (if size of house was to be based off of), so he kept his mouth shut. He wasn't very comfortable around the rich and famous, despite his profession. Mostly because it always got dragged around to talking about his father. And Zuko most certainly hated doing that.

"Hey, Zuko, do you need to head home?" Katara asked. "I don't think you called anyone last night, does your family know you're here?"

He resisted informing her that a majority of his family didn't even CARE where he was or if he was alive, instead simply shaking his head.

"It's okay." he murmured. "Most of them are busy, they won't even notice I'm gone."

Or care, again.

Aang stood up, brushing himself off and then stretching. Zuko refused to look at him when his shirt rose over his stomach while his arms raised over his head.

"Well, I have to go." he said. "Zuko, let me give you a ride back to your place."

Zuko wanted to turn the offer down, really he did. But without Aang there, he didn't really know anyone, and it would just become overly awkward and embarrassing. He'd left a relatively good-ish impression, he thought. That was enough for the moment, he could brave a ride back with Aang Kazekama.

"Yeah…sure." he mumbled.

Aang beamed and gestured for him to come as he headed towards the door to the outside world. He waved to his friends with a hollered "later", and Zuko followed up with a small wave.

"Thanks for having me…"

"No problem!" Toph chirped. "Come back again, yeah? Don't be a stranger!"

He offered her a small smile, before heading up the stairs after Aang.

The drive back to Zuko's house could have been more tense than it was, but a lot less awkward. As always, Aang didn't seem to be feeling it, unlike Zuko, who wanted to curl into a small ball and disappear. Five minutes into the drive and Aang turned on the radio, which Zuko had been very much hoping he WOULDN'T do. It always made the awkward silence that much more noticeable.

Zuko was surprised when the first thing to come on was Disturber's 'Indestructible'. He'd pegged Aang for more of a pop or hip hop fan…Or maybe even country. Not hard rock and metal. Personally, he didn't have a preference, just whatever he happened to like and be listening to at the given time.

Aang however, seemed to think the loud music was inappropriate and cursed under his breath, switching to radio from CD.

"Ah, sorry, forgot I left that in…Uh, anything you wanna hear?" he asked with a sheepish smile.

"That was fine…"

He looked surprised, but grinned, switching it back to the CD and turning it down low enough to talk over. As awkward as it was for Zuko, he had to admit that the dull thrumming of 'Land of Confusion' was nice in the background and made up for all the silence. Mostly.

"So you got any new modeling gigs?" Aang asked out of the blue. "Other than me, obviously."

Zuko was taken aback by this sudden question and had to, for a moment, flounder for an answer.

"Uh, no." he said finally. "No, they're still waiting for the last shoot to blow over…"

"Blow over?"

He nodded, launching into the explanation he'd given his father and sister (as his agent had given it to him).

"Since I've gotten to be a popular model, no two magazines or companies want to use me in an ad or photo shoot at the same time. One will naturally outdo the others, so they wait until the last photos have stopped being interesting to people, then they call me in for the next round. These of course are better, which makes the last company or magazine hire me again to outdo their rivals and so on and so forth."

"Sheesh." Aang mumbled. "Talk about a vicious cycle. At least that keeps you paid."

"I guess."

Truth be told, Zuko could care less about the money. He wasn't one of those book heroes who was saving up money to get themselves away from their family or bad situation. He had all the money he needed, more, actually. Not only was his family stinking rich, but so was his uncle, and he'd inherited quite a bit from his now dead grandparents on both sides as well as scattered relatives. Apparently he was quite liked among the more distant and therefore more sane Hihoshi family members. Hell, if he'd wanted to, Zuko could have finished high school and college and then not had to work a day in his life.

He wasn't like that however. He didn't like the idea of just lazing around the rest of his life, and intended to do something with his time, which would by default make money. However, he had really hoped modeling wouldn't be it. Now though…now he didn't seem to very well have a choice in the matter.

"I never pegged you for a gamer, but you kicked ass last night." Aang said.

Zuko wondered if he was just trying to be polite and make light conversation or if he really was just saying whatever came to mind for him. He didn't strike Zuko as the polite conversation type, so that left option two.

He shrugged.

"I guess."

"You're so serious at school," the artist continued. "You honestly look like the kind of person who goes home and studies for hours on end. Not the kinda person who plays video games like the rest of us failing youth."

Aang's grin was infectious, and as hard as Zuko tried, he couldn't help returning a small smile.

"I only study when I'm bored." he murmured. "I usually play video games and watch TV… Or read."

"Or write?"

Zuko instinctively hunched his shoulders, as if trying to hide something from the world. The only one in his family who knew he could, or even liked to, write, was his uncle.

"I…yeah." he finally agreed. "Or write."

"You know you should join the school paper, or hell even the local paper. They post short stories all the time, and you're definitely talented enough."

Zuko resisted the urge to point out Aang had ready one page of his writing due to the fact that Zuko had been severely off in his own head. Instead he just shook his head, shoulders hunching more and looking out the window.

"I'm not dedicated enough…"

It was a blatant lie, if anyone knew him well enough. Which Aang Kazekama didn't. Zuko was more than dedicated, and had he gotten a job at either paper he would have put his heart and soul into it. Unfortunately, that would have made it take precedent over his modeling. And his father viewed writers, ones that weren't already famous, as washed up has-beens who could have been making something of themselves in the corporate world but were more interested in getting high. Or something along those lines.

The rest of the ride progressed mostly in silence, though it was a more comfortable one than the first. Zuko had to wonder if he was getting used to Aang Kazekama's presence, as that feeling of wanting to run and hide was starting to diminish. He still wasn't totally comfortable in his presence, but he was doing better than he had been to be sure.

Whether or not getting used to being around Aang Kazekama was a good thing or not was still questionable, but regardless.

After what seemed like not long enough, they stopped in front of Zuko's house. He stared up at his home forlornly, wishing desperately that someone would show up and tell him he was now magically an orphan. But no, no he was doomed to going back into that house and being chained down again.

Zuko took a deep breath and unbuckled his seatbelt, then stepped out of the car. He gripped the strap of the bag he'd brought with him the day before. Over his shoulder, he waved to Aang, who returned the gesture with a grin, then started up the path to his house.

"Oh, hey, Zuko!"

Zuko looked over his shoulder.

"I think I forgot to mention, but, you look really good in those clothes!"

Inwardly, Zuko went bright pink, but on the outside, he just offered a tiny smile and turned back to the walk up to his front door.

Once he was inside, he didn't bother checking in on his sister, who was probably passed out on the couch. He also didn't look in to any of the rooms, knowing for sure he was going to be helping Azula clean up later, if it was one of her usual parties. Instead he dashed upstairs as fast as he could and to his room.

He pulled out his keys, and found the one that unlocked his room, which he did, and quickly entered. Kibou leapt off his bed and into his arms in seconds, purring and nuzzling contentedly beneath his chin. A smile spread over his lips as he cradled his kitten, scratching along her back and listening to her purring happily.

Zuko kicked the door closed and leaned back against it, then slid slowly down to sit on the floor. He just sat there, still cradling Kibou and not so much as thinking. It was odd, he mused, that what might have been a violent release yesterday, was turning out to be a very quiet and gentle one. An easy one, where he just let everything slip away save the one thing he was concentrating on; in this case Kibou.

Zuko was not entirely sure just how long he sat there, just holding Kibou and not doing anything, but only a moment seemed to have passed. His cellphone suddenly rung, making him jump slightly. He set Kibou into his lap and rummaged through his bag before pulling out his phone and checking who was calling.

Within a second he'd flipped it open and was holding it to his ear.

"Mai?" he said almost breathlessly, a little winded from his release, like always.

"Hey. You okay or were you in the middle of…an episode?" she asked carefully.

"No, no, I'm okay, I uh, I just got home."

He could almost hear the incredulous expression on Mai's face.

"…It's ten a.m. Zuko."

"I am aware of this, yes."

Actually, he hadn't been, but he had guessed it was somewhere early like that.

"Where in THE HELL were you at ten a.m. that would actually allow you to come home at the given time?"

She knew the he sometimes got called out for modeling gigs at four in the morning, but they lasted all day.

"Uhm…" he swallowed. "I uh….stayed over at someone's house…"

He could feel the shocked silence from the other side of the phone and shifted uncomfortably. Mai knew what a big deal that was, what it meant that he'd said "someone's" house not "uncle's" house. She was the only one other than Iroh and Jin who DID get it.

"…Who?" she asked.

"A girl named Toph." he said. "She's sort of a…friend of a friend…kind of."

"FRIEND of a FRIEND?"

More incredulity. He didn't blame her, when was the last time he'd said he had a friend? He couldn't even remember.

"Acquaintance of an acquaintance doesn't sound quite right." he muttered. "It's not that big of a deal. How's Ty Lee, was your trip okay?"

Mai huffed.

"Yes, France was gorgeous and we had a wonderful time. I think it's the first time I've actually let out my inner girl and shopped as much as I wanted. Don't change the subject; Friend of a friend?"

Zuko sighed.

"Acquaintance of an acquaintance Mai…. My current employer asked me to go to the mall with him and his friends and I didn't have an excuse to say no. Azula decided to throw a party and I ended up stranded, and they were all going to stay at Toph's house so I ended up staying over. End of story."

"I seriously doubt it." Mai said airily. "You're calling this girl by her first name."

"I don't know her last."

Mai's exasperated sigh put a very accurate image of her rolling her eyes in his head. He was the only person in the whole world who could dodge around a subject better than her.

"So how old is your employer, ten? Who drags YOU to a mall?"

"He's my age, I think." Zuko said. "He's an artist who asked me to model for him."

"And your dad agreed?"

"I gave him some bull about open options if something ever fell through or something." Zuko said, running a hand through his hair.

"You do know how to bullshit some very intelligent sounding crap."

"Thank you."

They sat in silence for a moment, which for most was odd. Being on a phone naturally meant you were supposed to be jabbering the whole time. But they were used to just sitting quietly, knowing the other was there if they needed to say something. They had sat like this whole nights sometimes.

"So, hey, since I'm back in town." Mai said. "I wanted to know if you wanted to meet up."

Zuko smiled.

"Of course I do Mai. Our usual place?"

"Unless you want to go to your uncle's instead."

"No, the usual place is okay."

"Alright, Tuesday? Mom will throw a fit if I go anywhere after my first day of school, otherwise I'd say Monday."

"Tuesday's fine. See you then."

"Yeah you too, take care of yourself."

"I try."

Mai hung up and Zuko sighed, looking down at Kibou. The kitten mewed, staring up at him with her big eyes, tail swaying side to side contentedly. Zuko smiled at his cat and picked her up, letting his bag slide from his shoulder and walking over to his bed.

He kicked off his shoes and flopped down, letting Kibou lay across his chest in a big purring mass of fluff. His hand absently scratched at her belly as they laid there, staring up at the ceiling. He was about to doze off when his phone buzzed.

Zuko picked the device up and flipped it open, opening the text he'd received.

'I had a lot of fun; let's do it again. ;)' -Aang

Much to Zuko's own shock, he found himself opening a responding text message and typing;

'I'd like that.' -Zuko


	10. Sugar Sweet and Just a Little Bit Rotten

A/N: Hard year does not begin to cover it. Let's just move on to the story shall we?

_.:Chapter Nine:._

Sugary Sweet and a Little Bit Rotten

The café was perched atop a sloping hill, the kind that randomly appears amidst the straight asphalt roads and then is gone against just as quickly. Zuko had fond memories of racing Mai up the street as children, betting whoever got there first would buy the pastries. It was fun.

Now however Zuko trudged up the street alone, hood pulled up to obscure his face, and entered the small shop on his own. It was the same it had always been, mismatched tables and chairs all jammed in at different angles into every available space. On crowded says you sometimes had to literally climb over another person to get to an empty seat.

It smelled of sandalwood and old books, a crooked bookshelf packed with various donated volumes tucked away in one corner. The counter was all wood, and the cash register was old fashioned, the display case a little dirty with age.

Zuko loved it. He always had.

Mai was waiting for him at their usual spot by the window. Ever since they were young, they had sat in the same exact spot. In fact, it was at that table that they had met one another. Of course their first meeting had included two other chairs, and they hadn't spoken much, but they still recalled it fondly.

Their mothers had been friends, and had for whatever reason dragged them both along to one of their tea dates, as they called them. Zuko remembered sitting awkwardly in the antique oak chair, fidgeting and picking at his cake, trying to ignore the dark eyes boring into him from across the table. Mai had sat in the plush red armchair across from him and just stared at him the whole time.

At the end of the meeting, when their mothers had been saying goodbye, she had leaned across the table and taken the last bite of his cake. Then held out a lollipop to him.

It had been a long time since then, but just like the café, nothing had really changed. Zuko slid into the antique oak chair, the exact same one he had sat in as a child, and Mai was already lounging in the armchair, sending a message on her phone.

"Yo." she said, her tone bland. "You're late."

"Azula wasn't home when I woke up, so I stayed till she got back." he said, taking the menu from the middle of the table.

Mai snorted.

To be fair, Mai was Zuko and Azula's friend, but she had an extreme tendency to favor Zuko. Back when they were children, Azula had tried to come between them, just like she did with all of Zuko's friends. The only difference was that this time, the friend stuck by him. It had been a rather unpleasant year, when Azula had been trying to wrench them apart.

In the end however, Mai had somehow convinced her that she could be both of their friends at the same time. Over the years however she had proven that when it came to disputes between the siblings, she was more likely to take Zuko's side. And he was grateful for that. She was the only one he usually had.

"I'm getting the dessert crepe and a mocha." Mai said, putting her phone in her bag. "You?"

Zuko glanced at the menu again. He had memorized it years ago, but sometimes there were surprise specials he hadn't been expecting.

"Coconut cake." he murmured. "And a chai."

"Iced?"

"Yeah."

Mai took the menu and went to the counter, ordering for the two of them. She returned to the table a moment later with their desserts, putting them both in the middle of the table.

Just like always, they spent the first few minutes in silence until their beverages arrived, digging into the sweets. They always shared, they always had, though they each got to call dibs on specific parts of what they had ordered. (So Zuko got the corner of the coconut cake and Mai got the part of the crepe that had a strawberry on it.)

Eventually, Mai spoke up.

"So, tell me about this artist guy." she said, taking another bite of the cake.

Zuko shrugged.

"What's to tell?" he said. "He's an artist, student like me, but I guess he's got the money to pay my fees anyway."

"You make it sound like you're a prostitute."

"Sometimes I feel like one."

Mai didn't comment on that at first, but then said;

"You know, I think this is the first time you haven't said something about how they've made you pose or dress." she raised an eyebrow. "Is this guy just kinda 'been there done that' or what?"

Zuko shrugged. It was true, usually he came to Mai with his frustrations about the indecent clothing or provocative poses. When it came to Aang though… Well he didn't actually have much to say.

"He…doesn't have me pose much." he mumbled. "Just…has me sit there. Do homework, write, whatever. Just so long as I don't move too much."

Mai pushed a piece of the strawberry at him and he poked it with his fork. She waited until he had eaten it with the crepe to speak again.

"So you basically get paid to sit around for a couple hours?"

"I guess." Zuko shrugged. "It's a…little unnerving sometimes. He just stares at me for a long time sometimes and it's…weird."

Someone came and took their empty plates and Mai sat back, taking a sip of her mocha. They sat in silence again for a while, each thinking their own thoughts. Zuko was mostly sorting through things to tell Mai about, categorizing everything that had happened recently.

Mai was analyzing Zuko. He hadn't insulted the artist, and he hadn't shut down at the mention of him. He hadn't done anything he usually did. Sure the conversation hadn't been very long, but Zuko was much more expressive than people gave him credit. He knew how to show emotion where it counted, if you just knew how to read him.

Right now however, she didn't know quite what to think. It seemed Zuko was undecided as to how to feel about this particular individual, and, thus, she was too. It was just that simple. Until Zuko decided whether or not he liked this person, she would be just as lost about how to feel towards him.

Zuko cleared his throat.

"So…how's school?" he mumbled. "You've been gone a while. Trip okay?"

"Yeah the trip was okay." Mai said, brushing her pigtail behind her shoulder. "Ty Lee dragged me around and we went shopping a lot. It was fun. And school's just plain old irritating, but it was nice to see everyone again."

"Azula didn't bug you too much did she?"

"No… She…Does better, when Ty Lee is around." Mai murmured. "I mean she's still a bitch but…not as much of a bitch. It's like Ty Lee stabilizes her."

Zuko sighed and rubbed his face with a hand.

"I wish she'd agree to go to a doctor…" he said.

"Zuko we KNOW something's wrong with her mentally."

"Yeah but a doctor has the authority to DO something about it." he said. "And if she just agrees to go then father won't be able to act like I'm…"

He trailed off and Mai sighed. She laid a hand over Zuko's letting him entwine their fingers and squeeze.

They had both known for a long time that there was something very wrong with Azula, and Ozai didn't help. Mai couldn't for the life of her understand why Zuko still even gave two shits about her or anything she did. Azula treated him like trash most of the time, and she never seemed to care about a single thing he did or how much he got hurt.

But Zuko was her big brother. He COULDN'T stop caring, even if he wanted to. That was the saddest part.

"She's doing better." Mai said softly. "Since Ty Lee and I got back. Mostly Ty Lee. She's been spending a lot of time with her alone, I think they missed one another."

Zuko sighed and nodded, slumping back in his seat. That at least was good to know.

"How's your uncle?"

"He's doing well." Zuko replied. "As ever. He's…been trying to talk to me about stuff lately though and I keep avoiding him."

"The same stuff he tried to talk to you about after…" she gestured to his scar.

Zuko sighed again.

"Yeah."

"So he still wants custody over you."

"Yeah."

"Even though he knows your dad will fight tooth and nail against it JUST to hurt you two."

"Yeah."

"Have we said your uncle is tough as nails?"

"I think he could melt Hannibal Lector's heart."

The pair shared a smile. Rare coming from both of them.

Zuko paid, even thought Mai harped on him about it. They were both well funded kids, it didn't really matter who paid the tab, but Zuko wanted to cover it anyway. He was a gentleman to a fault sometimes.

They left together, Mai linking her arm with Zuko's as they walked towards the bus stop. Zuko would leave Mai there so she could head home, and he would walk another three blocks to catch his own appropriate bus. They stopped under the station sign, pulling apart. Mai gave him a calculating look.

"You know you can call me for anything, right Zuko?" she said.

"Of course I do Mai." he assured her.

She stared at him a long moment, then sighed.

"That doesn't mean you will."

Zuko forced a smile and waved to her meekly, then turned and started down the hill to his own bus.


	11. Loves a Drug,Sexuality's Your Preference

**A/N:** Slow and sluggish updates are slow and sluggish, right? Right.

_.:Chapter Ten:._

Love's a Drug, Sexuality's Your Preference

It had become something like a bad habit by now. A drunk man trying to forget his problems, going to his favorite bar. It wasn't something good for him, he knew it wasn't even if no one else did, but he did it anyway because of that one feeling he got that made everything else stop mattering. For just a few hours everything could slip away and Zuko could just be Zuko without worrying about fathers or attacks or out of control sisters. Just be.

And then of course it would be over and it would suck even worse than it had to begin with, the hangover of life coming crashing down on his head until the next time he could drown it in…whatever this was.

Aang was worse for him than he had originally thought. The artist could get close to him and worm his way under his skin, that was true. But he could also get Zuko talking, make him tick, coax him into conversations. Short and blunt, but conversations nonetheless. Not always so short or blunt, and those times Zuko really did worry about himself.

Today was one of those days where Zuko would think back and pale at the realization he had had a whole conversation with someone who wasn't Mai. Then he'd realize he was just going to go and do it again sometime within the next days and he'd panic. Such was the cycle.

The topic today was Aang's gaggle of friends who had, somehow, decided to acquaint themselves with Zuko as well. It was about three weeks till Christmas, and by now the group had come to know Zuko rather well, at least enough to throw him a hi in the hallways. Zuko hadn't even realized he went to school with them until one day Sokka slung an arm around his shoulder and started rambling about his Chemistry assignment.

He had told Mai about it, wondering aloud whether or not he was just being used. Mai had rolled her eyes and smacked him over the head. After all, what did any of them have to gain from him? Nothing. It wasn't like he was known for monetary handouts or anything like that, though he had lent Sokka Amnesia: The Dark Descent like promised.

Katara informed him her brother had spent many nights screaming while playing it. Zuko could admit to a tiny touch of amusement at that.

Zuko sat in the old art room with Aang, again, doodling on a piece of paper while Aang talked. He had started talking somewhere during their seventh session together, and hadn't stopped since then, disregarding how much Zuko seemed uncomfortable with conversations.

"So Sokka and Suki's anniversary is coming up soon, Katara's scrambling to get them a present, she's totally freaking out."

Zuko snorted.

"Don't the people IN the relationship usually get one another gifts?" he said. "What's she doing buying a present?"

Aang smiled faintly, hand moving in rapid strokes over the paper he was working on. Charcoal today. He seemed to have a hundred fascinations when it came to art. Water color one day, pastels the next, then next week something insane like fine red powder he'd seen used on youtube or engraving. Charcoal was fairly average.

"It's sort of a tradition between them, Sokka and Katara I mean." he said. "Sokka's… Well, the first girl he ever really fell in love with, her name was Yue. She uhm… She died. Leukemia. Sokka didn't really recover after that, for a really long time he was- Well. He wasn't okay, let's say. Very not okay."

Zuko picked up his head slightly. He didn't know Sokka well, it was true, but he knew him enough. Sokka was a happy go lucky guy who was head over heels for his girlfriend. Zuko could barely imagine him with another woman, let alone anything but his usual comedic self. To think that he lived with the burden of such loss weighing down on him… It put a whole new perspective on him.

"She was a really sweet girl you know? Like when they talk about a fallen angel, she totally was. I mean I've never met a girl so sweet and gentle before. She and Sokka were just so perfect together, I swear you could see hearts flying around them whenever they were together. Yue even looked like an angel, I mean, something about her leukemia or the meds or something made her hair go white, but she was SO pretty."

Aang seemed lost in the memories, hand moving in slow movements now.

"Sokka stuck by her through everything, but there was nothing they could do. She kept recovering and then getting worse and recovering and getting worse, and eventually the worse was just…too much worse. She was at peace though. She had her family and Sokka, and she passed in her sleep. It was…it wasn't okay but it was what it was."

He sighed, putting his charcoal down for a moment, eyes darkening. Zuko watched him quietly. He always seemed to watch him these days, just waiting for the next unexpected movement from the artist.

"Sokka went into a nosedive. Not as bad as it could have been, no suicide attempts or drinking or anything like that. He knew Yue would have killed him if he ever did something like that. But he did get very distant and quiet and sad. It was hard to watch, but we weren't sure what to do. We were kids. Reality crashing down on our heads was… twisted."

He sighed again and picked up his charcoal. Zuko didn't dare interrupt him. Who knew how rarely this story was told, it was like he was being let in on a group secret. It was daunting. But…nice.

"Then Sokka met Suki. For a while there he refused to even acknowledge her because god forbid he fall in love again. Suki smacked him into shape though. Yue wouldn't have wanted him to keep living his life like that and she told him as much. They got into this huge fight." Aang laughed. "Suki won. They started dating a little while later."

Of course they did, Zuko thought. He didn't say it aloud though. But then again, this did sort of explain things between Sokka and Suki. Whenever they were together, Zuko had noticed that Sokka could be a bit…over protective. Worried about the littlest things. Suki tolerated it to a point, but even tolerating it surprised him.

"Anyway, Katara gets them a present every year to celebrate. Sokka really is in love with Suki, and Katara is just glad to see her brother back on his feet. So we usually celebrate, you know. Get them a cake, a gift, leave them alone for the day."

Zuko nodded in understanding, looking down at the page he was doodling on. Aang laughed sheepishly.

"Sorry, that was a depressing story." he said. "The point I was getting around to is that Katara's complaining about the lack of love life she has."

Zuko quirked an eyebrow at this.

"Wasn't Katara with that one senior…?"

"Short term thing, she never expected it to last. Besides, she mainly did it so that this girl who really like him would confess and then THEY would get together."

"….What?"

"…You don't watch a lot of TV dramas do you?"

"No?"

"Didn't think so."

Aang barked a laugh at the almost disgruntled expression Zuko was giving him. His laughter quieted into a smile, eyes falling back to his drawings, sketching something else, then moving to a new page.

"Anyway. I keep telling her the same thing. You'll find a great guy Katara, or girl for that matter, you're too kind of a girl not to. Besides, you're an amazing girlfriend."

Zuko was about to make his usual snide comment or light question, but paused. He rethought everything Aang had just said, then blinked and glanced at the other boy, raising a slim eyebrow at him.

"How would you know what kind of girlfriend Katara is?"

The artist glanced up, calculating Zuko's expression. It was blank, as per usual.

"We used to date." he said nonchalantly. "About two years ago. We were together for almost a year. Eventually we figured out that we were losing our friendship because we were, you know, TOGETHER, and we didn't like that. So we decided being just friends was better."

He laughed nervously, making Zuko quirk an eyebrow again.

"Er, we almost lost our friendship anyway shortly after. But we got over it."

"Why?"

"I uh…I slept with the guy she was gonna go to this one dance with. She almost slaughtered me, though I think she was more mad that I hadn't told her I was bisexual than anything else."

Zuko stared. Okay so, several pieces of information at once. One, Katara and Aang had once dated. Not unbelievable, they were quite close and if he had to guess anyone had a past together, it would be them. Two, Aang wasn't a virgin. Somehow, this was equally unsurprising. Aang didn't seem like a slut or anything, but he certainly didn't seem like the type to hold back and not enjoy himself where he could.

And three, Aang was bisexual. Why this made Zuko's insides twist, he had no idea but it was HIGHLY disconcerting.

"You're bisexual." he stated.

"Yup." Aang agreed. "You?"

"…I have no idea."

Zuko was used to the incredulous looks this response bought him, but to his surprise, what he got this time was a light grin and another one of Aang's rough laughs. By now, Zuko was unsurprised whenever Aang surprised him. It was all the artist seemed to do. At every turn, something new to throw Zuko for a curve.

"I'm not surprised." Aang grinned.

"Why do you say that?" Zuko asked, a bit edgily, half-glaring at the other. Aang's responding, gentle smile eased him. A bit.

"You don't seem to interact with many people. You barely interact with me, and we see one another almost every single day. How can you be expected to fall in love like that?"

"I don't."

"You don't want to be in love?"

"I don't see the point in trying. I sincerely doubt that books' descriptions are accurate. How is one meant to know when they're in love? More to the point how do they know when it's returned?"

Aang paused in drawing, looking up at Zuko quietly. He listened to the shorter teenager as he spoke. Zuko leaned his cheek against his hand, careful that his bangs did not move enough to reveal his scar.

"It's all so uncertain and painful, why bother with trying?"

Aang was silent a long moment, then said;

"You don't don't want to be with someone? Isn't being alone lonely?"

Zuko shrugged.

"I'm content on my own. We are born alone, why do we need to push ourselves to other people and cause ourselves pain? Seems silly to me."

They stared at one another, silver clashing with gold. Zuko couldn't help feeling a touch unnerved. Aang always had some kind of emotion in his eyes, but just then he looked utterly blank. At the very least unreadable, making Zuko scramble to wonder what he was thinking. The answer didn't come any more than he had expected it to.

"You'll find someone to love." he said eventually, and though it was a blunt statement, it felt somehow cryptic.

Why was Aang implying he needed to love someone? Zuko had problems enough with his emotions, the easiest to manage ones. He could barely keep it together enough to maintain an illusion of normalcy. How was he meant to handle such a deep, complex emotion like love?

Two hours later and Zuko left the art room, meandering his way out to the parking lot and through the streets, eventually reaching the bus stop. As he stood there, watching the sun disappearing behind the horizon as the cars rumbled by.

He waited patiently, eyes far away, lost in thought. The bus would come, and Zuko would mechanically board the vehicle, but for now, he just stared straight ahead in silence, expression blank, wondering one thing.

How could Aang be so optimistic about something so uncertain? How could he think something like LOVE was worth it? It made no sense to Zuko. Then again, Aang didn't make much sense to him either.


	12. Say Something that Makes You Sick

_.:. Chapter Eleven .:._

Say Something that Makes You Sick

The light had not even begun to shine through the overcast clouds overhead by the time Zuko was sitting out on his front stoop. He was dressed casually, wearing no distinctive jewelry and nothing that would be too hard to take off. He looked tired, and the early hours were not improving his mood.

Several days had passed, and he hadn't spent very much time with the one person who drove him up a wall, but also seemed to somehow almost stabilize him. Aang had become the ever present enigma in his life, a contradiction wrapped in a sedative mixed with something so sugary it made his mind go on the fritz. That, likely, made very little sense. Don't worry, Zuko didn't understand it either.

His father had sprung a modeling gig on him at the last moment, and Zuko had had no choice but to agree. Like he really ever had a choice in any of it, honestly.

Luckily, he was not left on his own to somehow find his way all the way across town at three in the morning. As the photo shoot would start at nine sharp, presuming all the other models were on time, the start was incredibly early. Four would have sufficed, likely, but Zuko had wanted time to stop for coffee and a pastry, and take his time.

And, thankfully, his ride had come through for him. As she usually did, when he needed her.

Mai pulled up in front of his house in pure silence, unlocking the door for him. He got up and padded down the sidewalk, opening the passenger's side door and slipping into the seat. He buckled his seatbelt as she pulled away from the curb.

"Thank you." he murmured. "For coming to get me."

Mai scoffed, as if his thanks was somehow either unnecessary or personally insulting. Or both, knowing her.

"Of course I came to get you, I'm not about to make you wait out in the cold for the bus to come, then drive for two hours around town only to finally be dropped off six blocks from where you need to be."

This was, sadly, an accurate rendition of previous bus rides Zuko had taken to this particular studio. Even though basically no one in town got on the bus at three in the morning, it still made all of its stops and in the end didn't even drop Zuko close to where he needed to be. It was unpleasant to say the least.

"Besides." Mai continued, in a much less annoyed voice. "You've been a little off lately. I…don't want you having an episode on anyone mid-shoot."

Zuko shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

At just two weeks before Christmas, one had to look back on the past few months of Zuko's life and realize that he hadn't quite been 'right' since he met Aang Kazekama. Of course, to say that Zuko had every been 'right' was a bit of an overstatement by all means.

Zuko had not been 'right' in a very, very, very long time, and he knew it too.

Nonetheless, since one tattooed artist had come crashing into his life, he'd been a lot worse for wear, or not, kind of? He didn't even know. Some days Aang made him feel like having one of the worst attacks he'd ever had, other days he made his imminent attacks go away completely. If Zuko knew how he worked, he would have used that to his advantage. Finally had something to keep himself stabilized.

But Aang was like some kind of unstable chemical. If he didn't do things just right it blew up in his face and he wound up worse off than before. The worst part, of course, was that Aang had no idea about any of this. Whether he was just oblivious or Zuko really was that good at hiding things was incredibly unclear.

The fact was that these days Zuko felt like he was on the verge of an attack almost every single day. It was either Azula's doing, or his father's, or school's, or Aang's. It was an unpleasant feeling, never knowing whether he was going to be able to step back and calm down or plummet into a horrible attack. Mai had suggested taking time off from school, but he knew that home would just make it worse.

He hadn't even had much time to go over to his uncle's lately, that probably didn't help very much.

Zuko sighed, resting his head against the window.

"I know Mai." he murmured. "I know."

As planned, they stopped for coffee and food. Models didn't generally have food provided, and when they did, it was either disgusting or not very filling. After all, they were models. Most of them didn't even really eat anyway, so there was no point.

They ate in the car while they drove, meandering around to chat a little while they finished their breakfasts. Mai had also gotten him something for lunch, and for dinner, since who knew how long he'd be there. This wasn't the first time they'd gone to a shoot together.

After Mai had realized that his agent was making him so emotionally jittery he basically had attacks after every single shoot, she'd made it very clear to Azula that the woman had to go. And go she did. …Well not completely, she got to stick around for the sake of being an agent but from there on in, Mai generally attended the photo shoots with Zuko instead. Something which the model in question was eternally grateful for.

They finished eating and reached the studio at last, pulling into the private parking garage. Mai parked and grabbed her things, then waited for Zuko before locking up the car. Together, they made their way up in the elevator to the ground floor.

Mai, professional as ever, flashed both their passes, and the bored looking secretary ushered them up to the seventh floor. The elevator ride was quiet (as most elevator rides are), though in this case it was mainly because Mai glared at anyone who tried to speak to Zuko.

They got to the seventh floor, got off, went down the hall, and walked into the bustling photography studio, where a combination of human voices, bad pop music, and moving equipment had risen to become unbearably loud. Zuko winced, as did Mai, neither of them very fond of the noise around them.

Zuko was almost instantly dragged away to hair and makeup. Mai took all of three minutes to find them an area to claim as their own, putting up barriers of sort (in the form of lawn chairs) and leaving their things, then returning to Zuko's side. Luckily, by now, everyone knew better than messing with Zuko Hihoshi's area. They had learned their lesson before.

Mai put on her best evil look, watching over her friend like a hawk as he was sat down in his chair to be painted up however the photographer's wanted.

The gig in question entailed modeling for winter coats, but seriously, when were the coats ever the focus of a photograph? When was the last time you actually cared about what the models were wearing over how attractive they looked?

Zuko sat perfectly still while the makeup artist and hairstylist went to work. He was accustomed to this by now and Mai was there to stop any funny business. It wasn't that he felt comfortable, just resigned to a fate he knew well.

The hair stylist went first. They straightened his hair, putting some kind of gloss in it to make it shine, which he had a bad feeling was going to take days to come out. After glossing and shining, the stylist rubbed their hands through his hair to give it a messy 'I just had scandalous dealings' sort of look. Or that was how Mai put it, anyway, though she had been much more crude about it.

Mai narrowed her eyes at the stylist as his hands almost went to Zuko's bangs, thought better of it, and went back to primping his hair.

Extensions were put in, though they were made of white feathers rather than fake hair. Zuko sat there, watching his reflection in the mirror as golden beads were added, and then a hair extension, a braid tied with golden string. It took an hour for his hair to be done, and he was one of the luckier ones. Since his hair was shorter and not very hard to deal with, it never took too long for his hair to be done.

The makeup artist was next up, but before that Mai interjected.

"Water." she said, holding the bottle out to him. "Drink up."

Zuko did as told, drinking down most of the water and then handing it back to Mai. He closed his eyes, preferring not the watch himself transform. It wasn't something he was proud of.

The artist went to work, and Zuko remained still as a statue. He felt a thin brush paint his lips, the thick paste smearing his mouth with some color or other. He guessed red, but it might be something paler considering the color scheme. Powder was dusted over his cheek, covering any blemishes he had meticulously.

The makeup artist paused here, and Zuko blinked his eyes open to glance at the new arrivals. Three more models, all women, stick thin, with bleached or dyed hair. One was sucking down some kind of power shake, another was talking on her phone in a high pitched whine. The last one was texting, chewing obnoxiously on bubblegum. They were all older than him as well, probably somewhere in their twenties.

Zuko turned his eyes back to the mirror and shut them. He didn't care about the other models, they never interested him. From the first time he'd walked into a photo shoot, he had known what the other models around him were.

Superficial, fake, unbalanced. They held no self-respect and so long as their photographs were plastered around the city they would continue to live their unblemished lives. All they talked about was makeup and clothes, men, magazines, how much weight they'd lost. Zuko had quickly figured out he didn't belong here anymore than anywhere else.

"Oh my god that bitch can you believe she even…"

"Somebody throw this out for me, I can't drink this, it's OBVIOUSLY not organic…"

"Would you hurry it up please I didn't come here to SIT…"

Zuko drowned them out, focusing instead on the makeup artist's returning attentions. A thick pencil drew dark lines above and below his visible eye. His eyelid was dusted with powder, then smeared with gloss, then powdered again. Mascara was, rather unnecessarily, added to his already thick lashes. More gloss to his lips, more powder over his face.

It continued for another hour, and Mai never left his side. She put herself between him and the next model over, so he wouldn't be addressed during any kind of conversations. Eventually, he was done, and Zuko opened his eyes to look at his reflection.

He didn't look like himself. He didn't look like anyone he knew. He looked like a face to be painted over the nearest billboard, a falsified idol.

His lips were painted pale pink, skin now even whiter than before, eyes framed in black, bringing out the golden color of his irises. Blue was dusted over his eyelid, his eyebrow had been plucked, and his cheeks had the faintest touch of blush to them.

He felt sick, looking at himself.

Mai ushered him out of the room and into the next, where the clothing was being coordinated. He waited patiently while he was fitted and sized, different clothes being held up to his body until it was decided.

Zuko quietly stripped down to his boxers, Mai turning away politely. He tugged on what he'd been given, careful of his hair and the extensions. Tight fitting, dark jeans, with white fur boots and two belts, one gray going through the loops and one black dangling around his hips. A white tank top, never mind what one would be doing wearing a simple tank under a winter coat, fingerless white gloves.

Then the coat he was meant to be modeling. white, fur lined, with fluff around the hood. It was a pretty coat, and Zuko was mildly pleased to find that each model got to take theirs home. He loved companies that gave free samples, he got some very cool clothing that way. Usually though, he didn't have the confidence to wear it.

But maybe, just maybe, if it intrigued his artist a little bit more, it might be worth it to try anyway.

Mai whistled from behind him and he turned around. She was holding his phone out to him, ignoring the stylist assessing his new wardrobe.

"Thanks." he murmured, taking his phone.

Flipping it open while the stylists primped him, he read the text he had gotten.

'Hey, wanna hang out with us today? :D'

It was from Aang.

Zuko felt his chest tighten at the sight of the few pixelated words. What he wouldn't give to do just that. Run out of here and go find Aang and just be normal for a day. Or moderately normal at least, as close to it as he could come. Something like that.

Of course, he couldn't. He was getting paid for one thing, for another thing he wasn't about to have someone phone his father to say he'd run out on a job. And of course, there was the matter of already being glossed and pressed into the perfect mold of a modern day superstar.

He scowled and typed a message back.

'I can't. I'm at a shoot.'

The reply came in moments.

'Damn, bummer. D:'

'Sorry.'

Zuko snapped his phone shut after his last reply and handed it off to Mai. She took it obligingly and went to put it away, leaving him to deal with the last of his prep.

With each passing moment he was wishing more and more that he were modeling with Aang and not this nameless company. Somehow, this didn't entirely surprise him. After all the difference was obvious. With Aang, he wasn't treated like a pretty object, to be used and then cast aside at a moment's notice.

"Alright Hihoshi, you're on."

Zuko turned around and slipped out of the room, plastering on the same mask he always wore, and melting into whatever mold the companies wanted from him. Shameless? No, more like hopeless.

The car ride home wasn't as nice as the one to the studio.

Zuko had been kept for hours and hours and hours, all the way until the sun had set and it had become dark out. He hadn't checked the time, and he wasn't about to, he didn't care enough. He had posed time after time, using his body to his advantage to please the camera.

Every compliment had fallen on deaf ears, and he had been the only model not complaining about every little thing. Posing with the women had been torture, and he honestly wondered whether or not they understood that he was under age. It didn't seem to matter to them, or to the rest of the modeling world. He was a pretty face, and he would be sexualized and exploited as they so pleased.

After hours of posing, his body ached and his mind hurt more. He could feel the stress getting to him. Not an attack, but he definitely wouldn't be able to deal with his sister or father today. The hours had felt like eternities, and now he just wanted to go to bed and hate humanity until the next time he had to interact with someone.

Mai dropped him off in front of his house.

"Call me if you need me Zuko." she said.

Zuko sighed.

"I will. Thanks for everything Mai…I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure."

She pulled away from the curb, and he watched her drive away. Quietly, he went to the door and unlocked it, kicking off his shoe in the entryway and making a beeline for the stairs. He went up, unlocked his room, and was greeted by a purring Kibou.

He dropped his things and leaned down, picking up his kitten and stroking her adoringly. She purred and snuggled up to him, rubbing against his cheeks and chin.

Somehow Zuko managed to hold onto her while he undressed, flopping into bed in just a pair of sleep pants. The kitten curled up on his chest, her low rumbling purr making him relax. There was nothing quite like kitten therapy, cute little baby cat just so happy to see you and wanting to be petted. Nothing made him more calm.

He reached over blindly, reaching for his phone and grabbing it at last. He hummed, opening it and staring at the one new text message. It was hours old, but it was from Aang, and it made his chest hurt. For some reason, not answering him… Upset him, somehow. Like he'd done something wrong.

Opening the text, he read what it said.

':D Hope your day wasn't (isn't?) too bad! Let's go get ice cream tomorrow, yeah?'

He stared at the message a long time, then, ever so slowly, wrote a response.

'I'd like that.'

After clicking send, he set his alarm and put his phone back on the table, closing his eyes and settling down to get some very much needed sleep.

For the first time in what might have been years, Zuko went to bed with a clear head. He didn't feel like his chest was being crushed, and his head didn't hurt. He wasn't about to have an attack and he wasn't on the verge of tears. He just felt tired, for the first time in so long, he had forgotten what it felt like.

And all because of one stupid text message from a stupid artist that fucked with his head more than anything else. Go figure.

* * *

**_EDIT:_** WAIT WAIT WAIT OH MY GOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN TA HAS OVER 100 REVIEWS OH MY GOD YOU ARE ALL I AMAZING I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU HOLY SHIT I WOW YEAH WOW SPEECHLESS


	13. You're Living in Visual Sin

_.: Chapter Twelve :._

You're Living in Visual Sin

Has anyone ever hit you? Like given you a really solid wallop upside the head? Your head spins, your vision skews, you can feel your thoughts bounding around your skull like a squishy rubber ball inside a box. It's not a pleasant feeling, it can make you sick, and if it's your first, probably lay you out for a few minutes.

It was not, unfortunately, Zuko's first. Or his second. Or even his tenth.

The moment Zuko had returned home, he knew something was wrong. He'd been near to having an attack earlier in the day, and to clear his head and emotions out, he went on a long, nighttime walk. He liked walking around at night, the moon overhead, the quiet wind through still trees. It was peaceful, and relaxing, especially after a good, hard rain.

Unfortunately Zuko was forbidden from nighttime walks whenever his father was at home. People might get the wrong impression if they saw him walking around after midnight, and god forbid he did anything to tarnish his father's reputation.

However Ozai was not supposed to have been home that night, he was supposed to still be at his penthouse in his office building, where he spent most nights. But for whatever reason, he had come home and was sitting in the living room when Zuko got home.

Zuko only had time to thank whatever god was up there that his little sister wasn't home before the first blow came.

Ozai never hit him where it could be seen. He avoided the face, the neck, and usually his arms and legs, concentrating blows to his torso and abdomen. Occasionally he'd hit him upside the head like he just had, just for the sake of making him hurt.

Zuko didn't even bother trying to apologize or insist he'd only been out for a walk. His father knew, if he was sober enough, that Zuko didn't do drugs or take part in gang activities. It really had been just a walk. But from the amount of curses leaving his mouth, Zuko guessed he was likely drunk, possibly a little high.

He slumped, falling to the floor and curling in on himself, covering his belly with his arms and bowing his head. It was an old defense trick he'd managed to learn over the years. Since his father avoided the head, there wasn't much worry about that getting knocked around, so instead he covered his stomach, which had no bone to protect it.

Broken ribs were one thing, but internal bleeding wasn't going to end well and he knew it. If his father ruptured something in there he wasn't going to be strong enough to get to the hospital, and death, however appealing, was not an option for him.

The beating went on for what felt like hours, but, usually it did. Zuko tasted blood at one point, but that was nothing new. He was going to be battered and bruised all over when his father was finished. He hung onto consciousness, rattling off random things in his head. Dates, times, how much more money he needed to get Mai's Christmas present wow was Christmas really just five days away that was amazing what else was amazing oh hey Aang was Aang was pretty amazing, artist wise who was his favorite artist probably Van Gogh no DaVinci no Monet no-

As quickly as it had started, the beating was over, and his father was walking up the stairs to his room. Zuko coughed and laid there, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to ward off the pain. It wasn't the worst beating he'd ever gotten but it wasn't the softest either. Liveable, if he could just get up to bed and put some ice on his bruises.

It took a good hour for him to have the strength to get up and get the ice packs, of which he had many. Another half hour to get up to bed, and another hour to lay himself out, covered in ice and whimpering. Kibou curled up on his pillow, purring and licking his cheek occasionally.

Zuko fell into a fitful sleep, only to be woken at noon the next day by his phone. Since it was Christmas vacation he wasn't expecting any calls, but he picked it up anyway. He pressed the call button without even looking at who it was.

"Hello?" he murmured softly.

"Hey, Zuko, you there? Sorry, did I wake you up?

Zuko cursed himself for not just leaving the phone, blinking his eyes open. He didn't want anything to do with the artist on the other end of the line, not today, not right now.

"Yes." he replied, voice a monotone. He wasn't annoyed at Aang, more himself.

"Oh…Sorry. Should I call back?"

"No it's alright."

Zuko sighed, running a hand through his hair and wincing as his bruised skin moved. Walking around was going to be a bitch today. He'd manage though, always had to, after all he had responsibilities. If not to himself, then to his little sister, and possibly to Aang.

"So what's going on?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, I was wondering if we were still meeting up today and if we were, would you mind coming to my studio instead of the classroom?"

"…You have a studio?"

There was a sheepish laugh from the other end of the line.

"Yeah, most of the art majors in our school do. It's not really something we advertise though, since there are some of us who don't fit the requirements."

"Requirements?"

"It's sort of like a scholarship thing, or something close to it. If we get high enough marks among other things, we get a studio paid for by the school."

"Oh." Zuko paused. "Okay. Where should I go?"

Aang dictated the address to him and Zuko had to roll over to write it down. His chest complained loudly about how much pain it was in, but Zuko ignored it, quietly scribbling down the address and time. He asked for an extra hour to get ready, then said his goodbyes.

Rolling back over, he turned his head to look at Kibou.

"Today is going to suck." he said simply.

The kitten meowed her agreement.

Several hours later and Zuko managed to get himself out of the house and to the bus stop. It was freezing out, and he had bundled up tight to make sure he didn't get sick on top of everything else. Coughing with bruised ribs was just about the most painful thing in the world, trust him, he'd been there.

He was wearing the coat he'd gotten from his last photo shoot, black, as opposed to the white one he'd been wearing in the photographs. Speaking of the last photo shoot, Zuko had taken something to heart when he was through with it.

When he had gotten home, he'd gone through all his old clothes, putting some into a bag for charity, and others into his dressers and to hand in his closet. He was almost seventeen, and he was sick and tired of hating himself. The self-loathing was not going to go away on its own, and no one around him was there to try and cheer him on. So he would do it himself.

Zuko had dressed today in clothing he liked. Not baggy, not shapeless, snug fitting and comfortable. Dark jeans that hugged his hips and a long sleeved white shirt that showed the shape of his chest and curve of his back. He'd brushed his hair rather than leaving it messy enough to cover both eyes, and he had painted his nails. Stupid, sure, and incredibly girly, but he liked the way the black nail polish looked on him.

Or maybe it was just a giant 'fuck you' to the world and anyone who dared tell him not to. Who knows, maybe it was both.

The bus was mostly empty when Zuko got on, which would have been odd for this time of day, but it was Christmas. Most people were already away on vacation. Zuko settled into the front seat and stared out the window at the passing cityscape.

Despite his injuries, and his throbbing head, and the worry that his sister would come home too inebriated to take care of herself… Zuko felt good. He was dressed the way he liked, not the way that would be best to hide who he was. He looked good, and he felt good, and he had eaten a proper breakfast. The day may suck to high hell, but it was the first time in years that Zuko hadn't left the house wearing a proverbial bag over his whole body.

He felt good, and not even Aang Kazekama was going to change that. Not today.

Almost an hour later and Zuko got off the bus, looking down at the address he'd written down. He looked around and then started walking, trying to find where the studio in question was. He found it, belatedly, and stared at it in silence for a few minutes.

Mainly, it seemed to be a big warehouse, or a collection of them. The whole street was a line of wood and tin warehouses, with big windows, most of which were closed. From inside some, he could hear the faint sounds of music, but he guessed that in face meant it was incredibly loud inside.

Pausing, Zuko reached up and pressed the buzzer, holding it a few seconds, then pulling his hand away. He stood there in the cold, hands in his pockets, until he heard a bolt pull back from the inside, and the door creaked open.

"Zuko, hey! Come on in!" Aang said cheerfully, stepping aside so his model could enter.

Zuko stepped inside, grateful to be out of the cold, and looked around.

They were in a hallway, not very long, but thin, with only two doors on either side. As Aang led him down the hall, if it could really be called that, he glanced at the doors. One was labeled 'dark room' and the other was a surprisingly nice bathroom. It had a shower and tub and everything.

At the end of the hall, everything suddenly widened as did Zuko's eyes as he saw the huge, expansive space his employer had to work in.

The giant room had been quartered off, kind of. Whole place was painted all white, the windows shut with dark curtains that to be pulled aside with a rope. In one corner there was a tripod and photography equipment, in another there were easels and various types of paints. Another, closer to the door, had huge canvases and great tubs of paint, and one wall seemed to be devoted to installations and murals.

It was like Aang couldn't quite make up his mind about where his talent lay within the art world. Everywhere, if you had to ask Zuko's opinion.

"Sorry it's such a mess uh…"

"It's an artist's studio." Zuko said, turning amused eyes on Aang. "I rather expected it to be a disaster area."

Aang laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed embarrassed, but not displeased that Zuko didn't mind the mess. He showed his model where to leave his coat and then ushered him into the middle of the room. It was then that Zuko noticed a small stage on wheels, which was hard to see as it was painted white like the rest of the room. He assumed that he was meant to pose on it.

Sure enough, Aang pulled up a chair and an easel, leaving Zuko to kick off his shoes and get onto the stage. He would have left them on but scuffing the white seemed somehow a bit rude.

Aang made no sign to indicate how he should stand so Zuko just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking around. After a few minutes, Aang made a motion to indicate he should turn, and Zuko did, adjusting his pose to give Aang more to draw. The artist returned to work instantly and Zuko stayed still until he was told to move again.

They went on like this for an hour and a half, turning and changing position. It was a lot like modeling for a photographer, but Zuko was allowed to do what felt comfortable. When his body started to ache from standing still too long, he would adjust positions. Aang never complained.

Eventually, the artist put down his charcoal and dusted off his hands.

"Sorry, tell me if this is too intrusive, but would you be terribly offended if I asked you to take your shirt off?" he asked.

Zuko was too lost in thought to remember that the ache in his body wasn't just the fault of remaining standing all day. He reached down and pulled his shirt up, revealing his slender figure and taut muscles. Unfortunately, it was then he recalled the now purple bruises across his pale skin.

Awkwardly, he tossed his shirt aside, playing it cool even though he was panicking. What the hell was he supposed to say? Fell down the stairs wasn't likely going to work very well.

Perhaps, he prayed, Aang would simply…Not mention it. It wouldn't be the first time the artist had kept his silence.

"…What happened to you?"

Yup, he'd been right. Today sucked.

Zuko scrambled for an adequate answer and in the end decided that almost truth was better than a straight up lie. After all, Aang seemed to be able to see right through him like a pane of glass.

"I ran into some boys who were…less than fond of my fame." he said slowly. "I seemed to have caught their girlfriends' attention and they didn't like it."

Not completely a lie, Zuko did run into men who disliked him for his looks and kind demeanor towards women. (Excuse him for being a gentleman jeez.) And they had beaten him up once. So it wasn't totally a lie. It just…hadn't been them this time was all.

Aang hummed to indicate he understood, but whether or not he necessarily believed him was hard to tell. He didn't pry though, much to Zuko's relief.

However despite not prying, Aang did not quite leave it there mentally. He knew what people looked like after being beat up by a gang, he would know. They had cuts and bruises everywhere, especially the face and hands. Their injuries weren't concentrated to one area like Zuko's.

The artist pursed his lips. He didn't like what this indicated, and though he wanted to ask, he didn't dare. He'd already come so far with Zuko, he couldn't afford to sacrifice that now because of his own curiosity, it wasn't worth it. Not yet anyway.

Still though, he felt a little sick to his stomach trying to reason away not helping someone, but what could he do. Zuko was an enigma wrapped in a mystery tied up in a riddle covered in really beautiful bows and ribbons and alabaster skin.

…Focus Aang.

You're an artist, not a pervert. …Maybe.

Clearing his throat, Aang indicated Zuko should turn, hoping to gain a little focus and self-control of the beautiful teen in front of him were turned the other way. That, however, turned out to an absolutely horrible idea. Since when did Zuko wear such fitted jeans?

Swallowing thickly, Aang put charcoal pencil to paper and started drawing again.

Three hours later and Zuko was allowed to put his shirt and shoes back on, getting ready to go. Aang's hands were black with charcoal, and it smeared over his jeans as he rubbed them off. Zuko was just pulling on his new coat when Aang walked up and handed him a piece of paper.

Zuko took it curiously, looking down at what was written on it.

"It's uh…My home address." Aang said sheepishly. "I guess just…I mean… If you need anything, feel free to come by. Whenever. Day or night."

Zuko stared at the paper in shock for a moment, then folded it and tucked it away. His chest felt… Warm and bubbly, as stupid and cliché as that sounded. He swallowed, looking at Aang.

"…Thank you." he murmured. "Really, Aang."

"Of course. Safe ride home."

"You too."

As Zuko walked back towards the bus stop, he couldn't stop the strange feeling in the region of his heart. Like it was bumping and fluttering in his chest, beating against his ribcage. He had never had someone, other than Mai, actually give a damn about him.

Maybe today didn't suck so bad after all.


	14. Wake Up Darling Reality's Calling

_.: Chapter Thirteen :._

Wake Up Darling Reality's Calling

It felt like the walls were closing in on him. His eyes were open but he couldn't see straight, like everything was being seen through a warped mirror, backwards and skewed. His blood was pounding in his ears, and it sounded more like a thousand heartbeats hammering away inside him until he had no choice but to scream to be heard.

He felt sick, like he wanted to cry and vomit at the same time, his stomach had seemingly disappeared. Everything around him was blurry, the shadows were coming off of the walls. He couldn't even process where he was anymore, just that he was shutting down.

Zuko was having an attack again.

He wasn't sure what had set him off, maybe he had just gone much too long without properly dealing with his pent up emotions. Or maybe it was the fact that for so long now, his mask had been slowly cracking and it was all Aang's fault.

Yet for some reason, he couldn't leave the bastard. Every time he had told himself to run the other way there Aang had been, with his stupid smile and his stupider laugh, making him feel all squiggly inside. No matter what he did, Zuko couldn't seem to get rid of that artist, even when he wanted to.

It was messing him up. Wanting to be someone he hadn't been since he was very small, but being stuck as this wretched person. It was like having two masks that weren't really masks, and each one was tearing him apart at the seams.

He felt unstable. Like he was standing on thin ice, balanced atop a tower of cards, ready to fall at any given moment. He was going to lose it any day now, and he didn't know how he was going to pick up the pieces when he truly shattered.

Zuko did not remember falling asleep, but he woke up the next day aching all over, and wanting nothing more than to curl up in a little ball and never move again. His eyes burned from crying, which he also didn't remember, and his throat was sore from… Either screaming or sobbing, it was very hard to tell.

He stared at his ceiling, unsure what to do for the longest time.

Eventually, he sat up, slowly, aching all over, and prepared to leave his bed. He glanced at his calendar, hanging beside his door. It was the day before Christmas.

Zuko almost laughed at the sheer pain of the thought. Christmas had not been happy in this household in years, and the only solace he had was that he would be able to depart from his home and go to his uncle's. This year however, the joy was going to be short lived.

Shorter lived, to be more precise.

As Zuko rose, shuffling around his room to feed Kibou and then seek out clothing, his phone buzzed. He let it ring several times, before ambling back over to it and picking it up. He pressed call the moment he saw the ID, holding it up to his ear.

"Yes father?" he asked softly.

Zuko could almost feel the chill from the other side of the line, but he said nothing to hint towards his turmoil, or the uncomfortable air now in the room. Instead he waited for Ozai to speak.

"Whatever plans you have, cancel them. There's a potential job tomorrow, and I intend you to be ready for it."

For a moment, Zuko was stunned into silence.

It wasn't easy to do that anymore. Not a whole hell of a lot shocked Zuko Hihoshi at this point in his life. You could tell him the sky had turned green and it was raining donuts and he, likely, wouldn't be entirely surprised.

Eventually, he managed a few words.

"Tomorrow's Christmas." he said softly.

Zuko never spoke back, it was something he had learned not to do very early on in life. Not because it was impolite (which it was), but because it would get him punished. Ozai had never been the kind of dad to spank their children, more beat them black and blue until he felt they'd learned their lessons.

Ozai apparently decided to overlook Zuko's small oversight in behavior, possibly because of his good record.

"I am aware of the date. Did I stutter?"

"…No sir."

"Good."

The line went dead, but for the longest time, Zuko didn't move. He just sat there with his phone to his ear, dead quiet and staring at nothing. Eventually his hand fell, clicking his phone shut and letting it slip from his fingers. He didn't move otherwise, still staring blankly at the wall, unsure what to do or say.

He knew why his father had done this.

It wasn't for publicity, or money, or getting him out of the house. It was just to hurt him. Just to stamp Zuko down a little more and remind him that he was, in fact, still just a pawn in Ozai Hihoshi's life.

Message had been received, loud and clear.

Zuko slumped, falling back against his bed and staring up at the ceiling. All will and desire to move was gone. He just laid there and stared at the white above him, mind blank.

For the next two hours, Zuko laid there, having perhaps the quietest attack he'd ever had. He cried, but he didn't move, his breathing never stuttered… He didn't even seem fazed were it not for the tears rolling down his cheeks. At one point he clenched his fists so hard he was pretty sure his nails bit into his palms and made him bleed.

He didn't even have the will to sob or scream anymore. He just laid there, in pain, hating the life he'd been born into. He'd been damned from the start.

The attack started receding as he began thinking. Idle, dark thoughts that left him feeling more hurt than he had to begin with. It was, however, better than an attack, and he took that thought to heart. Better than an attack was always better than any other option, so he took it.

As he had thought before, he'd been damned from the start. He'd been born Ozai's son, and that had been enough. He had never been what Ozai wanted, a tough, cruel boy who was just as demented as he was. He was a disappointment, never doing anything right by his father no matter how hard he tried.

He had done everything he could, and it had all resulted in…

His left hand twitched and he closed his eyes. He could feel the left side of his face burning all over again, like it was that one day, like he was thirteen again. He opened his eyes again, almost expecting his father to be standing over him, but finding only the ceiling.

Zuko wondered what it would have been like if he had been born with a normal life. If, perhaps, he'd had a normal father. Perhaps a bit distant, a little gruff, but not…Ozai. If he'd had a normal sister, who maybe partied quite a bit but wasn't so wrong in the head and without treatment.

If Zuko Hihoshi had ever been normal, he wondered what it would have been like.

He wouldn't hate himself, he realized. He would have self-confidence, wit, charm, maybe even a way with words. He'd be…not popular, but likeable, not really liked or disliked within his school or campus. If he was still a model, then he'd be one who enjoyed his work, made the pictures more about him than about hiding who he was.

He would have loved his chance to shine and taken the fame to boost what he really wanted to do in life, whatever that would have been.

Zuko blinked at the ceiling, and continued his thoughts.

Friends. He would be okay with having friends, with letting people close. There would be a close circle of people whom he loved best, and trusted most, and one very good friend who he trusted with his life. That would still be Mai, he bet.

There would be people who cared about him and he cared about in return, other boys to play soccer with and talk about dating tips and grades and tease about who they had crushes on. He would laugh and smile with them and they would all stick together through thick and thin.

And if he had friends, if he had friends and family and self-confidence, then Aang Kazekama would not bother him so damn much.

He would not scare him, he would not intimidate him, he would not worry him. Aang Kazekama would not be the strange ghost always haunting his thoughts, he would be a friend, a classmate, an employer. He would just be Aang and that was all, and it wouldn't have to be anything else.

It could just be that he was Aang and nothing else had to matter besides that. There would be no lying no cheating no pretending like he didn't noticed the tension in the air between them every time their eyes met. He could have just admitted to himself everything he thought and felt and saw.

And last of all, Zuko thought, if he had ever been normal, he would still have a mother.

With that last, heart wrenching thought, Zuko came to realize how truly much he despised both his life, and himself. The hatred boiled so red hot in his stomach, he thought he almost might scream from the pain of knowing it was there. Of what just might have been, if only.

Zuko was ripped from his painful thoughts, the conjured images of a happier life disappearing before his eyes, by the sound of a car pulling into the drive. His head turned and he stared at his clock.

It was seven pm. Had ten hours really gone by? He vaguely remembered drifting in and out of consciousness, caught between dreams and thoughts of what could have maybe been. His own mind making up stories about dinner dates and first kisses and best friends who liked soccer and video games. Time had passed without him even noticing.

Zuko laid there for what felt like an eternity, only to realize it had been all of five minutes. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open fully, and he shot up.

Zuko dressed completely, throwing on his coat and shoes. He grabbed his bag, throwing what few personal items he needed into it. Kibou watched him moving around the room in a flurry of emotion with wide green eyes.

Hearing his father shutting the front door, Zuko scooped his kitten into his arms, wrapping her up in his coat, and then shoving the window open. He'd planned this move since he had first gotten this room, but he'd never dared try it. Now though, he didn't give enough of a damn to stop himself.

He stepped out of his window, shutting it behind him carefully, then shimmying over to stand on the roof of the back patio. He stepped down onto it, and then jumped, landing hard on the balls of his feet. There was frost on the ground, and it was starting to snow again, big white flakes collecting on the ground beneath him.

Zuko did something he had never dared to before then. He stood straight, wrapping his arms protectively around Kibou in his jacket, and then…

He ran.

* * *

**A/N:** The world isn't over! Updates for everyone!


	15. You're Like Honey and Cyanide

_.: Chapter Fourteen :._

You're like Honey and Cyanide

If, at some time, you were to ask Zuko how he got from his house to the street he was running down, the answer would quite simply be that he had no idea. He was so out of it, somewhere between terrified and an attack, and he might have even had one and not realized it. He wasn't sure.

All Zuko knew was that one moment he was boarding the bus at a stop quite a bit farther from his home than usual, and the next he was getting off and running down the street. For a few minutes, he had no idea where he was, but it clicked into place mere moments later when he stopped in front of a large door. He was at Aang's studio. Why he expected Aang to be there at nine at night, he had no idea, but he was desperate.

He rang the doorbell, rubbing the shivering ball in his coat, praying Kibou wasn't going to get sick. He rang again after a few minutes, on the verge of screaming if no one answered.

However luck was on his side and a minute later the door opened, revealing Aang, sweaty, with paint all over his shirt and jeans. He blinked in shock, staring at Zuko a moment, then stepping aside. Zuko darted inside, undoing his coat to let Kibou out.

The little kitten shook herself off and looked around, padding around the room for a few minutes before plopping herself down on top of some rags and curling up. If Aang minded the little calico taking up residency in his studio, he didn't mention it, instead following Zuko into the studio space.

Zuko was shaking, not exactly sure what the emotions inside of him were doing right now, just knowing that something, very soon, was going to break. Vaguely, he was aware that Aang was helping him out of his coat and leading him across the room. He found himself sitting on a rollout futon, back to the wall, staring numbly across the room.

The artist gave him a minute to warm up from the cold, leaving and returning with a bowl of water that he placed in front of Kibou. The kitten meowed her appreciation and allowed herself to be petted, purring contentedly as she snuggled back down in her nest to sleep.

Aang returned to Zuko's side, settling beside his legs and looking at the obviously distraught teenager. His eyes were staring right through him again and this time Zuko was almost sure he was going to shatter from the inside out if he stared any longer.

"Zuko." Aang murmured, his voice soothing, as though talking to a frightened animal rather than a terrified boy. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Zuko opened his mouth to reply, he really did. He wanted to explain himself to Aang, why he'd shown up on his doorstep and interrupted his work. There was still music playing from his radio, though it was obvious he had turned the screaming sounds of hard metal down.

He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a wrenched sob.

Try as he might, he couldn't keep his sobs down and he curled in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest and hugging himself, wishing he weren't so weak. He should never cry, and he certainly should never cry in front of Aang Kazekama. The taller boy already had him wrapped around his finger without even meaning to, he couldn't give him anything more. Anything more and he would start to crumble.

Zuko cried, for the first time in years he just cried. He wasn't having an attack, he wasn't releasing pent up emotions, he was just crying. Crying out of sadness, fear, frustration, anger. Just crying because he was so sick of everything.

Spilling his guts to Aang was the last thing Zuko wanted to do, and yet here he was doing it anyway. The words tumbled from his mouth before he could shut himself up.

"It's not fair! I try so hard and it's never good enough for him no matter what I do! I've worked my whole life to just get maybe one 'good job' and it's never enough! I've practically sold my soul to the media, given up any hope of a social life or anything else to keep up the best grades, done everything he wanted, and it's still not enough!"

He took a shuddering breath, but it was much too late to shut himself up now.

"My father DESPISES me right down to my bones and I don't have any idea why! All I've ever done is work my hardest to make him proud and in the end I just get hurt worse for trying! I've given up everything and let myself fall so far and all I have to show for it is my own self-loathing!"

Aang's warm hands rubbed his shoulders gently, rubbing along his slim arms. His shaking refused to subside but the touches were more comforting than he would have liked to have admit.

"Have you ever defied him?"

It was a soft spoken question, nothing like Zuko had expected. There was no 'I'm sure he doesn't hate you', no 'you're overreacting'. Aang didn't question him for a moment, whether because he believed him or just wanted him to calm down, Zuko wasn't sure. It didn't matter right now.

"No!" Zuko said miserably. "Not before now, I couldn't…I still shouldn't have… You've seen what he's done…"

Aang's hands suddenly gripped his shoulders tightly, but he forced himself to relax his grip. It was bad enough to have suspicions that someone out there was purposely harming someone you cared about. It was another entirely to know for a fact that Zuko was being abused. At home, no less, by his own father.

He moved his hands to Zuko's shoulders again, kneading softly, easing a little bit of tension from his shoulders as best he could.

"What did you do? Or, what did he tell you not to do?"

Zuko let out a shuddering sob, but answered anyway.

"He…he said I couldn't go to my uncle's tomorrow for Christmas, because he had a potential job for me… I… I ran when he got home. I just ran."

You ran here, Aang thought, but did not speak the words aloud. He rubbed the back of Zuko's neck gently, wishing there was more he could do for the other.

"What about your mother?" Aang asked. "Why didn't you go to her?"

Wrong question, Aang.

The sound that left Zuko was so unbearably miserable it felt like Aang's heart might shatter at the sound of it. He knew instantly he had touched a subject that Zuko had long ago tried to suppress as much as he could.

When he spoke again, his voice was tiny.

"Mama has…has been missing…s-since…since I was seven…"

Zuko dissolved into sobs again, body shaking so badly Aang was worried about him being able to breathe. He didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of, grabbing the other and pulling him into a hug.

It was awkward, Zuko was still curled up and Aang had basically wrapped himself around him, but it was a hug nonetheless. The stutter in Zuko's sobs was comforting for the moment, and Aang squeezed him tightly, resting a cheek against his hair.

They sat there for the longest time, maybe an hour, maybe a bit longer, Zuko crying and Aang holding him as tightly as he could. No one had held Zuko in a very, very long time, and it made everything hurt so much worse and yet, somehow, not quite as bad.

By the time Zuko stopped crying, or at least sobbing, he had somehow wound up with his legs across Aang's lap. The other was rubbing his back and holding him, apparently in no rush to move. Zuko found, much to his shock, that he wasn't so interested in leaving the confines of Aang's arms either. This, for him, was worrying, but right now, he was so emotionally out of it that he couldn't be bothered to care.

"I'm sorry for being such a bother…" he mumbled softly.

Aang suddenly let him go, and Zuko expected to be pushed away. Instead a hand came up to his chin, tilting his head up gently, so he was forced to look into Aang's eyes. Silver met gold and for a moment, Zuko was sure the whole world had dropped away.

There was nothing but pure mercury and for a second, his breath stuttered in his throat. Then Aang leaned forward, resting their foreheads together.

"You are anything but a bother Zuko." he murmured, just as softly. "I'm here. Whenever you need me, for whatever you need from me. You can trust me."

If Zuko had planned to respond, his words were lost and forgotten as Aang tilted his head and leaned in closer, pressing their lips together.

For a minute, Zuko just sat there, not sure what was going on. He'd never been kissed before, and it wasn't as though he hadn't seen it, or read about it, but experiencing it was a lot different. Just for a little while, Zuko could not be sure whether or not he liked it, and then he realized; yes. Yes he did.

He closed his eyes, leaning closer and allowing Aang to take control of this…whatever this was. Situation, who knew. This moment where nothing else mattered.

Aang kissed him like he was the most precious thing in the entire world. Like at any moment Zuko could break into a thousand pieces or just float away. He never let him go, pulling Zuko completely into his lap and holding him tightly against his chest. Whether it was meant to comfort himself or the smaller male, it wasn't clear and it didn't matter.

His lips were firm against Zuko's, making his lips malleable and willing beneath his. Even though it was obvious he could have overpowered and demanded of Zuko what he wanted, he went slow and made sure Zuko knew he was being cared for. Each movement was tentative and slow, willing to back off at a moment's notice.

Zuko never gave any sign he wanted it to stop though. He pushed back against Aang's lips, desperate to know that he was wanted. That finally, someone wanted him. Not the pretty painted up image posted on every billboard and printed in every magazine, not the picture perfect creature that everyone got to saw. But him, Zuko. Raw and real and unmasked, with all his flaws and broken pieces. Someone finally wanted the shattered remnants of a person he was, and that was enough to make him give in.

Zuko was not entirely sure how long they sat there, kissing with Aang holding him tight. He knew he liked it though, the feeling of Aang's lips brushing his, soft tongue parting his lips and mapping his mouth. It was embarrassing, letting Aang kiss him so deeply, but it was nice. It felt…warm.

Aang pulled back, eventually, nuzzling him softly and pressing a tiny kiss to his nose.

"Would you like to stay the night at Toph's?" he asked softly.

Zuko shook his head, curling a hand more tightly into Aang's shirt. Aang paused a moment, then tried again, softly.

"Would you like to stay here for the night…?"

This time it was Zuko who paused. After a moment, he nodded shyly, tucking his head under Aang's chin. The artist sighed, relieved, and hugged Zuko close.

"Tomorrow we'll figure things out." he murmured gently. "For now, let's just get some rest."

Zuko nodded again, too tired to argue. A lot had happened in the space of twelve hours and he was spent. Aang laid him down despite his weak protests, taking off his shoes for him. Zuko flushed, not used to being taken care of and hiding his face in the pillow.

Aang got up, retrieving Kibou from where she was all curled up and carrying her back over to the futon. He left the radio on, setting Kibou beside Zuko and then spooning against his back.

The model held his kitten, blushing, but feeling safe for the first time in years, Aang's warm body pressed against his back. His eyes slipped closed to the sounds of Enter Sandman, and the feeling of Aang's warm breath on his cheek as he drifted into dreamland.


	16. What's there to say about Christmas

_.: Chapter Fifteen :._

What's there to say about Christmas

Zuko woke up to soft kisses being peppered across his cheeks and jaw. Soft lips murmured his name against his ear, another kiss being pressed against his temple. Zuko frowned and muttered something unintelligible, slowly blinking his golden eyes open.

"Mm…G'morning beautiful." a deep voice crooned against his ear. "Sleep well?"

Zuko took a moment, trying to remember where he was, and who was talking. Kibou was purring against his chest, so he knew it was nowhere he needed to be afraid of. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head.

Aang was smiling down at him, head resting on one hand with his other arm still wrapped around Zuko. He grinned, leaning down to kiss his lips.

"Hey there sleepyhead." he murmured. "Merry Christmas."

Zuko made a small murmuring sound, scrunching his nose up. Aang just chuckled and kissed him again, stroking his pale cheek affectionately. Zuko could honestly say he didn't understand how Aang could be so sweet with him, acting like they were long time lovers after not even a day.

Were they even a couple? Who knew. Who cared.

"Good morning." Zuko said softly, nuzzling against the pillow. "What time is it…?"

"Ten." the artist replied, pressing a kiss to his temple. So many kisses. Eek.

Zuko sat up and Aang followed suit, leaning back on his arms while Zuko rubbed a hand through his hair, straightening the bangs covering his scar. After a moment, he looked over at his…companion, then away again, blushing. The memory of the night before was enough to make him want to hide his face in the pillow and never look up again.

After a few minutes of just sitting there, Aang spoke up.

"You mentioned going to your uncle's for Christmas." he murmured. "I…think you should."

Zuko whipped around, looking at Aang in surprise. He looked down at his lap, fidgeting.

"I haven't got anyone's gifts." he mumbled. "I was going to get them yesterday with uncle but…"

He trailed off awkwardly. He wasn't left hanging though, as Aang's arms wrapped gently around his shoulders and the artist kissed the crown of his head.

"I don't know your uncle very well, but I think that… Any chance to spend a day with you is gift enough to him."

Zuko thought about this. He felt ashamed. He had run to Aang, who he'd only known a few months, rather than his uncle. Though he reasoned that his uncle's home was the first place his father would look, that wasn't a good enough excuse. He felt low for not standing up to Ozai for the sake of his family.

"C'mon." Aang coaxed. "I'll drop you off."

"No." the reply came, instantaneous. "I…I'll go but…come with me."

Aang looked startled, and Zuko immediately realized what he'd asked of him.

"No, wait, never mind, you have family too, I'm sorry that was-"

A finger pressed to his lips and Aang smiled at him. Golden eyes blinked tentatively at his partner as Aang pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"A really sweet thing to ask." Aang said. "I'd love to come."

"But what about YOUR family…?"

The artist's smile became sad.

"I don't have any."

Zuko did not inquire any further into the matter, feeling bad for even bringing it up.

They got ready in silence, taking turns in the bathroom. Zuko didn't remember packing an extra set of clothes, but apparently he had, which was good as he preferred to be clean than dirty.

By the time Aang left the bathroom, dressed in faded blue jeans and a gray shirt, Zuko was pulling his coat on over a white turtleneck. The artist had something with him, which he held up. It looked like a large scarf tied together at one end, and proved to be, basically that only not.

"I use it for my tools, when I'm on the ladder." Aang said simply. "You can carry your cat in it, so she doesn't shed all over your shirt."

Zuko pulled his coat off one arm, letting Aang put the sling around his neck. He pulled his coat back on, picking up Kibou and settling her in the sling. The kitten shifted around until comfortable and started purring, apparently quite liking her new mode of travel.

"What's her name?" Aang asked gently, stroking her nose.

"Kibou." Zuko replied.

"She's a cutie." he smiled when Kibou licked his finger, then snuggled herself down in the sling. "Are we going to the teahouse?"

"Yeah." Zuko replied. "Uncle lives above it, we usually have Christmas there with some of the workers. Jin and her brother Lee, Song and her mother…"

He shrugged, closing his coat and pulling his bag over his shoulder. Aang didn't question further, grabbed his own coat, a beat up leather thing, and pulling it on. They exited the studio and he locked up, then pressed the lock on his keychain and his car beeped from down the street.

They made their way to his car, where Zuko got in the passenger's side. For a few minutes they just sat in the car, letting it heat up and trying to decide on music. In the end, they chose a station that was, at the minute, playing Aerosmith. Once the car was warm, they pulled out onto the road and started the drive.

As it turned out, Aang's studio wasn't all that far from the Jasmine Dragon. The car ride didn't take all that long, and soon enough they were pulling up to the usually packed street in front of the teashop. The normally busy sidewalk was mostly empty for the holidays, as most people knew that, today, the Jasmine Dragon was closed until two pm.

Aang got out of the car, and then like a true gentleman, opened the door for Zuko. Though the model was slightly disgruntled by the gesture, he couldn't help admitting that it was in fact incredibly sweet.

He didn't need to knock when they got to the front door, just opened it, stepping into the empty teahouse with Aang in tow. Zuko had barely gone two feet into the room when there was a loud squeal and something launched itself at his abdomen. Stumbling back a few inches, he reached down to put his hand on the head of the little boy now clinging to him.

"Zuko, Zuko, Zuko you're here! We didn't think you were coming! But you're here!"

Zuko sighed, unable to stop the tiniest of smiles crossing his lips. He ruffled the boy's messy black hair.

"Yes Lee, I'm here." he said gently. "Is your sister around?"

"Uh-huh! Her and big brother are in the kitchen with Song!"

Zuko's eyebrows rose.

"Your older brother is here? I thought he was still in Afghanistan…"

"Nuh-uh! They let his troop off for Christmas, and he surprised us!"

It was then that Lee seemed to notice the newcomer to their teahouse. He looked up at Aang with his big brown eyes, eyeing him with childish curiosity.

"Who's this Zuko?"

"I, uhm…" he paused, flustered for a moment. What did he say? What the hell was Aang to him now?

Aang stepped in for him, wrapping his arm around Zuko's waist gently and smiling down at the little boy staring up at them.

"I'm Aang, I'm Zuko's boyfriend." he said.

"I thought you had to be a girl to have a boyfriend." Lee said, then scrunched up his nose. "Zuko yer not a girl are you?"

"What!? No I'm not!"

Aang laughed, squeezing Zuko reassuringly.

"Boys can have boyfriends too." he said. "And girls can have girlfriends."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh. Okay."

With the acceptance only a child could possibly have, Lee grinned at them, revealing missing teeth, and then darted away to play somewhere. Zuko brushed himself down, opening his coat to let Kibou out. She leapt out of the sling and onto a nearby table, shaking herself off and then leaping down.

While he was taking his coat off and taking Aang's to hang in the closet, Song had come out of the kitchen. She was a lovely brown haired girl with a kind smile and a gentle demeanor, living up to her sweet name.

"Zuko! I'm so glad you're here… Your uncle is out at the store picking up a few things, and who is this?"

Aang walked up to her, holding out a hand.

"Aang Kazekama, I'm Zuko's boyfriend. And I'm afraid I'm not sure what your name is…?"

"I'm Song." she said. "I work here part time while going to college."

While Aang and Song got acquainted, Zuko put their coats away, running up to the third floor, where his uncle's home was. He threw his bag onto his bed and made sure his uncle's aquarium was lit, cleaned and fed, then went back downstairs. Kibou stayed on his heels as he went to the kitchen.

Jin and Sano were there, Lee's older siblings. Sano was the pride and joy of their family, a marine who had served two tours in Afghanistan thus far.

Sano looked a lot like one might imagine Lee looking like when he was older. Dark hair and eyes with tanned skin and a big, happy grin. He was six foot something with a buzz cut and a few scars, including one across his cheek. But he was a handsome guy, and as good as a big brother Zuko had ever had.

"Hey! There's the superstar! Saw you in some mags while I was oversees kiddo-"

Zuko winced.

"-Don't worry, you looked miserable."

Zuko smiled as he was pulled into a bear hug. He returned it, though his own grip was nowhere near as strong as Sano's. Jin laughed, pausing in her cooking to rest her hands on her hips.

"Jeez Zuko, you look so tiny compared to Sano."

"He looks tiny compared to anyone! He's still a shrimp!"

Zuko growled and smacked Sano's chest, narrowing his eyes at him. He looked like a puppy yapping at a giant Doberman. Sano just laughed and mussed his hair, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Now then," he said, leaning down conspiratorially. "Who is this strange, tattooed man in our teahouse charming the pants off Song. Have you brought an interloper Zuko?"

Rolling his eyes, Zuko tried to wriggle out of Sano's grip and got a noogie for his trouble. Growling at the older man, he managed an annoyed glare.

"His name's Aang." Jin piped up. "Zuko's modeling for him."

"He's Zuko's boyfriend!" Lee piped up, having come into the kitchen to see if he could sneak any food before dinner.

Zuko tensed, feeling Sano freeze. Nervously, he glanced up at the other, then away. Sano was quiet a moment, then laughed, squeezing Zuko in a brotherly hug.

"Aw, lil' ZuZu found him so luvins! Good for you kiddo!"

Zuko let out a relieved sigh, trying in vain to ward off Sano's attempts to tickle and generally bother him. He wasn't as motivated as usual though, just feeling happy that his ragtag family didn't judge him for his choices. Choice. Whatever Aang was, the bothersome idiot.

An hour later and the front door opened again, Iroh entering his tea shop to find Aang playing card games with Jin and Lee. Song and Sano were in the kitchen, which was where Zuko was returning to. However at the sight of his surprised looking uncle, He handed the dish he'd gone to get off and dashed to him instead.

Zuko hugged his uncle tightly, feeling the familiar surge of happiness that meant he was back where he belonged. Back with his real family, not the horrible people who did nothing but torment him.

"Welcome home Uncle." he said, releasing his uncle from his tight grip.

"I should be saying that to you, Zuko." Iroh huffed. "Your father said he had forbidden you from coming."

Zuko faltered for a moment, then, to his own surprise, smiled.

"Fuck the old man, I'm not going to let him ruin Christmas for me." he said, which seemed to surprise his uncle as much as it surprised him.

Across the room, Aang laughed.

"I think I'm a bad influence on you." he said, his amusement evident.

Zuko turned his head to glower at his boyfriend, who did a very good impression of a kicked puppy. Giving him one last withering look, he turned back to his uncle and smiled lightly.

"Dinner's almost done, I hope you don't mind that I invited Aang over too."

"Of course, of course! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, nephew. Now come along and help me get these presents sorted."

"Er, yes Uncle, about that 'friend' part…"

As he went upstairs with Iroh, he started to explain things to him. In the end, he wound up starting all the way back at his last photo shoot where he had gotten his new coat, continuing on from that point up until last night. Of course, he left out some of the more personal details, but what he told Iroh was enough.

To his joy, Iroh didn't at all seem to mind that his nephew was… Not dating a girl, whatever that made him. He didn't even seem to mind his choice of partner.

They spent a good hour and a half upstairs, wrapping presents and talking, something they hadn't done in some time. It felt good to smile again, have some fun with his uncle. He had missed this, the feeling of belonging somewhere, of being an equal. Being happy.

And, he thought, traipsing downstairs his arms laden in presents, it was all thanks to that stupid artist, Aang Kazekama.

Funny how things work out, isn't it?

* * *

**_A/N:_**Two chapters for Christmas everyone, and we're officially done with the first arc of the story! Merry whatever you celebrate!


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